Valete
by agrant33074
Summary: The end of the series with plot details up to episode 7.12, Duck and Cover. This deals with Leo's death, and is mainly Josh and Donna centered. Latest chapter is 23, with a plot summary to refresh memories. A month ago, 21 on JD, 22 on SA.
1. Chapter 1

_JUST TO CLARIFY --- the first chapter is nothing like the rest. _

* * *

A flash of lights, a swerve, it's attempted to be avoided, a bang, and it's over. They try to save you, but it's pointless. Today is your time; the Lord said it was so. People are bound to cry, mourn the loss of their dear friend, but you hope they know that it was time for you to leave and that they know that you're sorry for leaving them without finishing the job. It was unlike you to do something like that. They'll forgive you, comrade. 


	2. Chapter 2

At the end of the first chapter, I originally had a really long author's note to justify my writing this, but I moved it into my profile. So, see that if you want to read it. But, I warn you: it's boring.

* * *

"One of the Secret Service cars just got into an accident," Donna said, running in.

"What?"

"It's on CNN."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean, Josh? One of the SUVs transporting someone just crashed."

Josh's expression was one of utter shellshock.

"Was it the Congressman?"

"I don't know."

"Leo? Vinick? Sullivan? The President?"

"No one knows right now, Josh."

"Could it just be a Senator?"

"I don't know."

The silence in the room was palpable with neither one knowing what to say next, glued to the televisions with each news channel reporting the story.

"Do we know who was in the car!"

"Congressman," Josh and Donna said at the same time, a sense of relief evident as Santos walked into the room.

"This is – has anything like this ever happened before?"

"Uh—" Josh said, glancing at Donna, "not to our knowledge, sir."

"Are they thinking there's foul play involved?"

"We don't even know from whose camp the car came, sir," Donna replied, "but it seems fairly unlikely due to how it occurred."

"Let me know if there's any news," the Congressman said, walking out of the room.

Josh began to pace around. If felt as if every one of his nerves were on fire. Who had it been in the car? he thought to himself. Either way, I bet it's someone I care about, someone I love. Of course. It has to be. People only die when I'm involved. Why couldn't it just have been Vinick or Sullivan?

"Jesus!" Josh exclaimed in the silence, throwing his hand down on the back of the chair with his forehead following.

"Josh? What's wrong?" He was unresponsive, raising Donna's level of fear. "Josh? Josh, did you figure out who was in the car?"

"NO, DONNA!" he yelled, forcing Donna to instinctively take a few steps backward. "It's just that – God dammit Donna, why do I have to act like this?"

"What?" she asked, nearly speechless.

"I just – I just freaking wished that it was either Vinick or Sullivan in the car."

"Oh, Josh."

"I just made a death wish on our opponents – I wished a death wish on someone, Donna. And I was serious about it. I don't want it to be someone here hurt. But what right do I have to be wishing ill will towards people – innocents? Democrat or not, I shouldn't be saying these things. Jesus! What kind of psychotic sick-o am I?"

Donna walked over towards Josh and took one of his hands in hers, rubbing it lightly. She had seen Josh like this before. It scared her now as much as it did then. Though the conditions had always been entirely different, every time he reacted in a self-destructive way, Donna became upset. She had a reason to.

"You are _not_ a sick-o, Josh," she said, trying to the best of her ability to comfort him. She knew the words didn't sound right; they sounded contrite and stupid, but there was nothing else she could do. "You're just praying for it to be someone you wouldn't have rather gotten inside the car instead of them a million times over. You wish it hadn't happened, but you just don't want it to be someone you'd die for. And, plus, Josh, they haven't confirmed any deaths yet."

He snorted, stealing his hand away.

"Yeah, like there won't be any deaths in that. You saw the wreckage. It's like someone thought that the telephone pole was a Christmas tree and decided to deck the halls with a GMC Suburban. Because, you know, there's no way tinsel would work. You're much better off with a nice big SUV wrapped around it. Oh, and don't forget to take some human lives with it, too, while you're at it," Josh bellowed, pulling his hand away and waving both his hands around frantically.

"Josh."

"And it's not even Christmas yet, Donna! These _early birds _just decided 'Hey! I feel like spreading some yuletide cheer today! Let's go!' and they went out and did their thing. Dammit Donna, everyone ends up hurt with me!"

Before Donna could get a word in, Lou ran into the room.

"It's Leo."


	3. Chapter 3

Josh stood motionless. Donna's hand had come up over her mouth. It _couldn't _be Leo.

"Do you – do you know if he's – alive, Lou?" Donna asked.

Lou shook her head. "I don't know anything right now. It just came in from the Secret Service."

"Was there anyone else in the car?" Josh said, so barely audible Lou couldn't understand him.

"What?"

"Was there anyone else in the car," Donna translated.

"We think Annabeth was."

"Oh, my God," Josh said, beginning to pace and rubbing the top of his head.

Lou and Donna exchanged glances. This was _the _worst possible situation for Josh.

"But we don't know for sure," Lou continued, "because we've been getting different reports from different people. Someone from advance said that Annabeth put Leo in the car and went to follow up on some more stuff, leaving about five minutes after."

"Have you tried her cell phone?" Donna asked.

"Yeah. All I'm getting is voicemail."

Lou looked over at Josh again, still walking, off in his own little world.

"I'll give you guys the room, and I'll be in here as soon as I have anything else, all right?"

"Thanks," Donna said, walking Lou out and closing the door behind her. When Donna turned to face Josh, his back was towards her. What was she going to do? It's pointless mentioning trying to call someone to help him right now, Donna thought. Plus, is he even seeing Stanley anymore? It had been a pretty long time since Donna had been in this sort of position, being Josh's anchor. What could she do, what could she say?

Instead, Donna walked up to Josh, hugging him tightly and putting her head on his shoulder. He tensed up at first, then relaxed, holding her and letting her hug him. They stood that way for a minute or two, rocking back and forth, side to side, when Josh's cell phone rang. Instantly, Josh broke his embrace with Donna and dove for the phone on the desk.

"Hel—Hello?" He stammered, nearly dropping the phone before he put it up to his ear. Donna stood behind him, holding her breath for any news that she could hear one-way through Josh's conversation with whoever it was.

"Josh?" The phone was full of static, making it nearly impossible for Josh to hear her. Still, he could recognize that voice.

"Annabeth?"

Donna's heart skipped a beat upon hearing her name.

"Josh, Leo's – Leo's been in an accident," Annabeth stammered out.

"I know, we heard, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, I wasn't in the car."

"What about Leo? Is he okay?"

"I—I don't know."

"What's happening? Do they have medical teams there?"

"Yes. They put him into an ambulance."

"Did they say anything about his condition?"

"I don't know."

"Where did they take him?"

"What?"

"I asked where they took him."

"Oh. G.W."

"I'm going there right now and I want you to get there as soon as possible, OK?"

"Alright," she said airily, and Josh closed his phone.

"What's happening?" Donna asked.

Josh hesitated before answering.

"Annabeth wasn't in the car. She arrived at the scene a few minutes after the crash, but she isn't sure what Leo's condition is. She knows he was put into an ambulance going to G.W."

"Okay. Are you going to go?"

No reply.

"Josh?"

"Annabeth – she sounded _weird_, Donna. It wasn't her usual self. You could just hear how scared she was in her voice."

"I can't blame her."

"She's usually so put together, though."

"I know. But she's scared and we all are. You, I, the Congressman, we all are."

"I wish this wasn't happening."

"I know, Josh, but it is," Donna said, trying to keep his head in the game. "Are you going to go to G.W.?"

"Yeah," he replied slowly, coming out of a stupor. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Right now. We've gotta – you've gotta – someone has to tell the Congressman, and then I'm going. You – Lou – we should have her – I want you to come with me."

"Okay."

"Lou can handle it, right?"

"Yes. She can."

"Someone's gotta call the President, too, though."

"He probably knows, but you can call C.J. on the way. We'll take your car and I'll drive."

"Okay, I'll go get the car; you tell everyone what's up." And with that, Josh ran out of the room and down the hallway out of sight.

Lou approached Donna. "You know something?"

Donna grabbed Lou by the arm and drew her over away from everyone. She leaned down and began to speak in a whisper-like voice.

"Annabeth called Josh's phone," she began. "She wasn't in the car, and she didn't see what happened. Her car was a few minutes out. All she knows is that Leo was sent to G.W. and Josh and I are heading there. We don't know what his condition is, or the condition of any of the agents involved."

Lou's face was a mixture of relief and confusion. "We have no idea what his condition is?"

Donna shook her head.

"Okay," Lou continued. "What should I tell the Congressman?"

"Just that. Nothing more, nothing less. Josh and I will call you from the hospital once we know more."

"If I know anything I'll call you, too."

"Thanks, Lou," Donna said, as she grabbed her coat and purse off the hat rack and walked at a brisk pace down the hall after Josh.


	4. Chapter 4

People were running around the West Wing like chickens with their heads cut off.

"Well – oh, no sir – I haven't – I haven't – no, not personally, sir. I'm sure – yes, that – when? Next week? Well – yes, I'll have to check with the President's – yes, advance – Why do they call it that? – Yes, that's it sir." It was impossible for C.J. to get a word in.

"Yes, I've read the – no, not the – there is a later version? Well, I'll – yes, my assistant. Yes, sir—"

She rolled her eyes, the phone being held to her ear with her shoulder, and began to look around her desk for anything sharp that could cut a phone cord. Scissors. Letter opener. Machete. Whatever. She _could_ just unplug the handset from the base, but then Margaret would come back and put it back in. No, the only option was to cut the cord. Scissors are probably the best choice, she thought, as the others would probably, you know, electrocute me, or something.

Hark! What is that I hear? Is it… could it really be? Yes, yes it is!

C.J. inwardly sighed as she heard Kate talking to Margaret outside. Now, at long last, she could get off the phone. She didn't care if it had absolutely nothing to do with the world – Kate could just be telling her what was going on with her lack of relationship with Will – any chance to use the phrase "Excuse me Mr. Ambassador, Commander Harper just walked into my office," would be a gift from God.

YES! C.J. screamed inside her head as Kate walked in the doorway. With lightening speed, C.J. covered the mouthpiece and began to speak.

"What's up?" She asked in a whisper-yell.

"Who are you on the phone with?" Kate shot back.

"The Dutch Ambassador."

"Chatty guy?"

"Oh, how could you tell?" C.J. said, sarcastically.

"I heard incomplete sentences being formed."

"Yeah," C.J. said, leaning back in her chair. "So, what's up?"

"Something really strange – a Secret Service car crashed."

"It crashed?"

"Yes, but we don't know who was in it."

C.J. sat up again, concerned. "We don't know who was in it?"

"No. Details are sketchy."

"Alright," C.J. said, taking her hand off the mouth piece. "Mr. Ambassador? I'm going to have to get back to you. Commander Harper just walked into my office and there's a bit of a situation. Thank you, truly, for all the candid insight on the President's visit."

She hung up the phone and stared at her desk for a second, then looked back up at Kate.

"Where are we meeting?"

"Situation Room."

C.J. shook her head. "How can we not know who was in the car?"

"Both campaigns are in town this week. We've got a lot of cars out there, and – the crash occurred in an area of bad cell phone reception."

"You're kidding," C.J. said, her eyebrows raised. "Bad cell phone reception?"

"Yeah."

"Don't they – don't they have communication systems in the cars? Or, satellite phones, or something like that?"

"All the cars are equipped with satellite communication, but we think most of the equipment was damaged upon impact. Another car just got there, so we should know who was in it soon."

"And they'll have satellite phones?"

"Working satellite phones."

"Okay," C.J. said, finally standing up. "Let's go."

Kate watched as C.J. put on her suit jacket and started to step out when Margaret walked in.

"C.J., you have Josh on line three."

"Can you take –"

"He said it was urgent," Margaret interrupted, a concerned look on her face.

"Okay."

C.J. returned to her desk and picked up the phone, putting it on speakerphone, as Kate sat down the chair in front of C.J.'s desk.

"Josh? What's up?"

"Do you guys know about the car that crashed?" Josh said immediately, skipping all greetings.

"Yeah, I just found out. Why, do you know anything?"

"It – it was – Leo was in the car, C.J."

C.J.'s face turned pale. She looked at Kate briefly and then returned to staring at the phone.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Josh, it's Kate," Commander Harper interjected. "NSC doesn't even know, the Secret Service told us only that there were unverified reports, so how are you certain it was Leo?"

"Annabeth Schott. She was in the car that was five minutes out. She managed to get through to me on her cell."

"And she's sure," C.J. began, "and I mean completely sure, that it was Leo?"

"Annabeth put him in the car. She knows, and she's pretty shaken up."

"Ambulances were on the scene," Kate said quietly to C.J.

Taking that fact into account, C.J. replied with a breathless "Okay." She then continued, asking, "Josh, do you know where Leo was taken?"

"G.W., and Donna and I are heading there now." He paused for a minute. "C.J., you have to tell the President."

"I – I know that – it's just – I don't want to have to tell him until we're entirely sure that it was Leo in the car."

"He needs to know, C.J."

"Yeah. I know."

"Even if it isn't Leo. He needs to know that it's a possibility."

"Okay."

"Thanks, C.J."

"Josh?" C.J. yelled, right before he hung up.

"Yeah?"

"Will you promise to call me with any and all updates about Leo?"

Josh sighed. "I promise," he replied, his voice full of sincerity.

C.J. turned speakerphone off and sat silently for a few moments. Her body felt numb. She couldn't remember all the times she had felt like this, but she knew that this feeling had come rather often over the past eight years. No, that wasn't it, she could remember, she just didn't want to. Ripping off the band-aid and exposing the old wounds wouldn't do any good in this situation.

"Kate, go down there without me. I have to go talk to the President."

And with that, C.J. walked over and opened the door to the Oval Office.

"Mr. President—"


	5. Chapter 5

Can you feel the angst tonight?

* * *

Things had been speeding along, but, somehow, in the car, time seemed to stop. He had yelled at Donna, asking her why she couldn't go faster, only to have her reply that 85 was the fastest she felt comfortable driving at right now. He also asked her why it took so long to get there; Donna said it didn't. Josh couldn't believe her.

He felt negligent, he felt responsible. What would Leo have been doing today had he not made him run for Vice President?

"C.J.'s telling the President?" Donna asked quietly.

It took a minute for Josh to return back to the planet Earth. "Um, yeah. She said she was going to."

"I can't even begin to imagine how horrible that must be for her."

"Yeah," Josh replied numbly. But, he thought, I'd rather do it than C.J. – I want a chance to explain myself, to ask the President for forgiveness.

"And he'll be calling Mallory and Mrs. McGarr— Leo's ex-wife?"

"I'd assume so. It makes the most sense," Josh replied.

"Is there anyone else we should be calling?"

"I don't know. You talked to Lou."

"Yeah," Donna sighed. "She'll take care of everyone over at the campaign."

She paused for a minute. Then continued. "I was just wondering if – who – if anyone was going to call Sam. And Toby."

"Oh, God," Josh whispered. "Sam."

"Should you or I call him?"

"I – I don't know. I think I'll call. I don't think that he'll be on C.J.'s list. She's going to have a lot to do just dealing with the President. And investigating what the hell happened."

"And Toby?" Donna said timidly.

"Yeah. I'll have to call him."

There was silence for a minute. It seemed strange to them to talk of all their old friends, the old gang. And to call and tell them that the leader was apparently near death. It just didn't seem right.

Donna broke the reprieve, asking,

"How long has it been since Sam last saw Leo?"

"I don't know. A while. They were supposed to meet up for lunch when Leo was in California a few months back, but it never happened."

"_Should_ we be calling him?"

Josh turned and looked at Donna, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Sam hasn't spoken to Leo – or, well, hasn't seen him – in quite some time," she replied, switching back and forth from keeping her eyes on the road and looking at Josh. "It's just that I'm wondering if we really should be calling Sam to tell him that Leo was in a car accident."

"You'd rather we wait to see if Leo's okay to call?"

"I don't know."

"Then what's the point in calling at all?" Josh's voice began to get more tense and angrier with each word.

"If it's a false alarm and Leo only has a few cuts and bruises – well, then we'll have worried Sam for no reason."

"So you'd rather we wait for Sam to see it on CNN."

"No, it's just that –"

"No, no, I see what it is," Josh said, his voice gaining a shrill laugh as he spoke. "You don't want to call Sam until we know something for sure. But, if Leo's fine, you don't care about calling him. All you want to do is wait until Leo's dead. Because, then, you can call Sam, but he'll be grief-stricken without the minutes of worry before hand, and then it'll make sense to call him. I mean, God, Donna, why would anyone call a friend who lives across the country to tell them a mutual friend was in a car accident? It's a waste of caring. It's not as if Sam's going to hop on a super sonic jet and fly out to see Leo within the next twenty minutes. And, since he isn't, we shouldn't bother him with the details!"

Josh finished speaking and Donna waited to reply. It isn't his fault he was acting like this, she told herself, it's what happens to him when things get scary. The sarcasm, the grief, all signs he's stressing. And I'm the one who has to help him.

"I'm just trying to assess the situation, Josh. I'm sorry."

Josh turned his entire body towards the window and whispered a hostile "Yeah," as they drove on towards the hospital.


	6. Chapter 6

Time to shout out to the three people who have reviewed this story. You all ROCK. Seriously though, thank you so much.

I've posted two whole chapters today, and this one is actually long. I dunno. Just thank you for reviewing and reading this. Reviews give so much motivation, and I obsessively check my stats for hits. Pathetic? You bet!

* * *

The doors to the Situation Room burst open as President Bartlet and C.J. walked in at a brisk pace.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President," Kate said.

"Do we know if it was in fact Leo in the car?" Bartlet asked, getting directly to the point and motioning all those present who had stood up to sit back down.

"At this point, we still cannot say for sure," Kate replied.

"Why not? It happened in Washington, D.C., didn't it? We have a large intelligence budget, no? Then tell me why we can't find out who was in a damn car accident!"

"Sir—" C.J. said, trying to interject and stop him from becoming totally agitated. He was already volatile, but it was worth the effort to save him from an explosion early on.

"We won't know anything for certain until Agent Butterfield arrives, sir," Kate said, remaining calm. "He will give you a full briefing."

"Can you at least tell me whether or not there appeared to be any foul play involved?"

"It doesn't appear that way, sir, but we won't rule anything out until Agent Butterfield tells us exactly what he knows."

The President nodded his head and sat back in his chair silently, closing his eyes. Just then, C.J.'s cell phone rang.

"Excuse me, sir," she said, and ran out of the situation room into the hallway.

She flipped open her phone. "C.J. Cregg."

"It's Josh," the voice on the other line said.

"Do you know anything new about Leo?"

"No. Did you tell the President?"

C.J. sighed. "Yeah."

"How did he take it?"

"I – I don't know. It's all kind of a blur. I told him what had happened, and all he said to me was 'Is that why people are running around the West Wing so much?'"

"That's it?"

"Well, then he asked what hospital, what was being done, and what he should do now."

"Did you tell him to call Jenny and Mallory?"

"He said he would. I told him to come with me down into the situation room, and now we're waiting for Ron Butterfield to tell us any information."

"Good."

The two paused.

"How're you holding up?" Josh asked.

"I'm – I'm fine, I guess," she said, walking towards a wall and leaning her back against it. "I don't know, I guess it just doesn't seem real. I mean, I've seen some footage of the crash, because everyone's got it on their TVs, but I still can't believe it's Leo. I can't imagine that he's been hurt."

"Yeah."

"How's Donna?"

Josh turned and looked at his driver. "She's handling it like a pro. Being my sanity, per usual." He continued to look at her, hoping this would be the repartition for his latest meltdown.

"The girl's a rock, Josh," C.J. replied.

"Hey Donna, C.J. says you're a rock," Josh said, pulling the phone parallel to his neck while still attached to his ear, a slightly mischievous grin appearing on his face.

"What kind?"

Josh repeated Donna's words into the phone. "What kind?"

"Well, I don't think she's rough, so she's not pumice."

"C.J. doesn't think you're pumice."

"And I don't think she was born from fire because she's too sweet and doesn't have enough rage, so I'm not going to say igneous."

"Not igneous."

"But I think she's pretty adaptable to any situation, so it can be stretched to say that she undergoes metamorphoses constantly. So, I guess she's a metamorphic rock."

"You're metamorphic."

Donna smiled. "Is that just because C.J. can't think of any other kinds of rocks?"

"She just thinks you've run out of rock kinds," Josh said playfully.

"And also tell her that pumice is a specific kind of stone. Igneous and metamorphic are generalizations," Donna added.

"Donna also says that—"

"Yeah, I heard her," C.J. replied. "Ask her if she can name any other kinds of rocks."

"C.J. wants to know if you can name other kinds of rock."

"Granite…"

"Granite…"

"Limestone…"

"Limestone…"

"Fine," C.J. huffed. "But does she even know if pumice is a specific kind of stone?"

"C.J. doubts your rock identification abilities," Josh said. He then continued to talk to C.J., saying, "I think Donna must have had a pet rock growing up. Or belonged to her school's nerdy science club or something."

"Maybe geology was one of her fifteen majors?" C.J. quipped.

"Yeah, that's it!" Josh exclaimed.

"I didn't have fifteen majors, C.J.," Donna said loudly.

"She can hear me?"

Donna grabbed the phone from Josh and brought it to her ear.

"Yes, I can hear you, but it was more fun having Josh relay the information."

"Hey!" Josh shouted.

"And, plus," Donna continued, "it's bad to drive and talk on a cell phone at the same time."

"Well, yes." C.J. paused. "So, did you major in geology?"

"No!" Donna shouted.

"Rock club then?" Josh asked.

"No. I just – know things. Sort of," Donna said defensively.

"Uh-huh! She's lying, C.J.!"

C.J. laughed. "Yeah. Well, Donna, all things considered and all rocks aside, you're a truly strong person and I love you for it."

"Thank you."

C.J. chuckled and then began to talk more softly. "How's Josh holding up, really?"

"Oh, alright, I suppose," Donna said nonchalantly, trying to avoid suspicion from Josh.

"You'll call me when you have a chance to tell me the real details?"

"Yes," Donna firmly replied.

"Thanks. Hand me back to Josh, please?"

"Sure," Donna said, passing the phone over to Josh.

"What's up?"

"Please call me with any updates still, okay? Ron Butterfield will be here soon but I want reports on Leo's status from you."

"Okay. Talk to you later."

Josh closed his phone and smiled. He missed the stuff like the rock-talk C.J., Donna, and he had just had.

"You know, you forgot a very obvious kind of rock," Josh said, looking over at Donna.

"What's that?"

"Marble."

"You've lost your marbles," she snapped back, smiling.

"Ah, good one."

"Oh, come on, it wasn't _that _bad."

"No, it wasn't," he conceded, as they drove up towards the hospital, the smiles wiped from their faces and silence engulfing the car as they remembered where they were traveling to and why they were really going.


	7. Chapter 7

Very short, but perhaps another chapter later.

* * *

"Right there," Josh called out, pointing to an empty parking space. Donna followed his directions and pulled in, easily. She turned off the car, unbuckled her seatbelt, and laid back for a minute, silently processing things. She then took the keys out of the ignition and handed them to Josh.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Yeah."

The two stepped out of the car and began to walk towards the emergency room entrance.

"This is the second time I've parked around here," Donna whispered to herself, looking around the parking lot and remembering the last time she was there.

"What?"

Donna looked at Josh, startled. She hadn't realized what she had said could have been heard. "I said remember the last time I parked here."

"Oh," Josh replied. "Was it when you took me to get my hand fixed?"

"No. We took a cab that night."

"Oh."

They paused in silence and continued to walk.

"Then it was—" Josh began to say, stopping.

"Yeah."

"When I— I mean, when the— the night of Rosslyn."

"Yeah," Donna replied. She had meant to keep that comment to herself.

"Okay," was the only thing with which Josh could reply. The awkward silence between them was palpable, the only sounds being Donna's heels clicking the pavement and echoing around them and the soft hush of traffic from the highway. He tried desperately to come up with something to say. Anything to lighten the mood. Spark conversation. Then he got an idea.

"This is sort of a homecoming for me."

"What?" Donna looked dumbfounded.

"This is sort of a homecoming for me. For a while I lived here. Not in the ER, but, in this hospital. I didn't really think of it until now."

"Yeah. Leo's in good hands if they have the same doctors from when you were here."

"Uh-huh, but I don't think he'll be pleased with all the food they've got here. I mean, it's okay, but – I don't think Leo's the biggest fan of jell-o."

"Unlike you," Donna laughed. "For a while back then every other word out of your mouth for me would be 'Donna, could you get the nurse to get me some more jell-o?'"

"But you're forgetting something."

"No, I'm not. It was _never _lime jell-o. _Never_. If lime jell-o appeared in front of you, by God, one would have thought, I don't know, a bomb was there."

"I'm a man of particular tastes."

"You're neurotic."

"Oh, come on, are you telling me you don't have a jell-o flavor preference?"

"You couldn't taste anything!"

Josh's eyes rolled back into his head. Why did this woman remember everything?

"Yeah? So? I like to eat foods that look appetizing."

"You're just afraid of food that are green and jiggle."

"Which is why lime jell-o simply did not work for me."

"It's ironic, really, your last name being Lyman and everything. Lyman. Sounds like man of limes."

"Extremely ironic, Donna. So ironic I can't fathom how I have survived thus far," he said with a smirk.

Before they knew what had happened, there they were. The entrance to George Washington University Hospital.


	8. Chapter 8

This is when the story begins to become dragged out and gets quite preposterous. Bear with me.

* * *

"I need you to call the Secret Service and give Donna and me clearance to see Leo," Josh said quickly.

"They aren't letting you in?"

"No, even though I am the campaign manager of the campaign in which he is the incumbent for Vice President, so, I was hoping that since you're the White House Chief of Staff and everything, you could call and get us in."

"Okay, fine," C.J. sighed, the things she had to do piling up uncontrollably. "I'll do it, just sit tight."

"Yeah." He closed his phone and began to pace again, while Donna sat calmly and patiently.

"Before, before when the President was shot and you weren't with us that night, was the security this hard to get through?"

"Yeah, it took me forever."

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long did it take you once you arrived?"

"I don't know. Half-hour, maybe?"

"Jesus," Josh said, taking his hand to his head.

"But, this is different. It's not the President of the United States who's in here, it's Leo. And, while Leo may as well be as important as the President on a lot of counts, he doesn't have the title which invokes so many privileges. Don't worry about it, we'll get in."

"Yeah."

Josh walked around a little bit more, and Donna remained to sit. She had never been to the hospital more than three times in her life before Josh was shot in Rosslyn. After that, her frequent flyer miles to GW were pretty damn high. Then, take in the time to get Josh's hand fixed, getting blown up in Gaza and flown to Germany… well, the numbers had totaled. Donna was now a knowledgeable person about hospitals.

Josh interrupted her thoughts, asking, "When you got to the hospital that night, what did you say to the Secret Service agents who were guarding the doors?"

"That I worked at the White House, and I showed them my ID card."

"But they didn't let you in?"

"No. I had to find an agent I knew."

"Did you try telling people you worked for me?"

"After the first agent I just went and looked for someone I knew."

"It really took that long to find someone?"

"Yeah. It was chaotic."

"But, once you found someone, they let you in?"

"Right away."

"But you didn't know any details until you got inside, right?"

"No. Nothing until I got into the waiting room with Toby and the First Lady and everyone."

They went back to their separate little worlds: Josh, blaming himself for Leo's accident, and Donna, worrying about Josh. They way it always had been for her. The way it always would be.

"What was it like trying to see me in Germany?"

Josh snapped his head around to look at Donna. "Huh?"

"When you came to see me in Germany, how hard was it to get in?"

Josh stared at her for a minute, wondering why she would bring that time up. The time when he hopped on a plane, no questions asked, flew to a foreign country, and then found Donna had slept with a photojournalist. A British one. Who was, well, rather good-looking.

Josh brushed the thought out of his head and laughed. "Well, the nurse at the desk basically wouldn't let me, so I had to play the White House card. Told her my rank of a three- star general."

"And then?"

"Then I was there."

"So, that doesn't sound too challenging."

"Well, after flying over an ocean, it had better been pretty easy."

"I bet you liked using the three-star general line."

"You better believe it," Josh replied with a smirk.

Their comfortable silence after their conversation was interrupted as the Secret Service agent who had originally barred them from the hospital returned.

"Mr. Lyman, Ms. Moss, I just received word from Ms. Cregg and Agent Butterfield: you two are able to go inside."

"Thanks," Josh said, as he ran in and Donna followed after grabbing her purse.

Once inside Josh stopped. It seemed almost – normal, except for all the Secret Service people and FBI agents running around. There was no sense of urgency, or, for that case, emergency.

"We've gotta see Leo McGarry –"Josh said, turning around to look at the Secret Service agent who had let them in and followed them into the building. "Where is he?"

"Excuse me a minute, Mr. Lyman, I'll have to check with another one of the agents," the armed escort replied, and walked over to a group of agents huddled in a corner.

"What do you think it is that's going on?" Josh whispered to Donna as she walked up next to him.

"I don't know. Maybe it's more national security related than we thought."

"A car carrying the Democratic Vice Presidential candidate?"

"It doesn't have to be foreign terror. It could be a radical right group."

Josh looked away, and then returned to lock his eyes with Donna's. "Do you seriously think that – I don't know – the Fascist Anarchist Absolutists of Annapolis, Maryland would attack Leo's car?

"No."

"Okay."

"But I don't think there is such a person who is a Fascist Anarchist Absolutist, by the way."

"More the reason Leo's car wasn't attacked by them." Josh surveyed the area. "I don't know, Donna. Something's up. It just doesn't seem right."

"Mr. Lyman –"

Josh turned around. The original Secret Service agent had brought along another friend.

"Yeah?"

"Mr. Lyman, my name is Agent Dempsey, and this, who you've been talking to, is Agent Bernard."

"Hi," Josh said, extending his hand to the new agent and then taking it back and pointing to Donna. "This is Donna Moss, Press Secretary for Santos for a Brighter America."

"Hello, Ms. Moss," Agent Dempsey replied. "Now, Mr. Lyman, Agent Bernard said that you were trying to get in to see Leo McGarry and that Ms. Cregg from the White House called to give you clearance."

"Yeah. And Ron Butterfield did too, apparently."

"Right. Before we can accommodate you by any means, we need to know whether or not there will be more people coming."

"What do you mean?" Donna asked.

"What I mean is that before we can give you any information about Mr. McGarry's status – well, it's just that we'd rather inform the entire group as a whole, rather than singularly informing groups, or, having the word spread by means of television and other news sources."

"We're the only two from the campaign coming right now," Josh answered. "But, Congressman Santos will be wanting to visit his running mate later, I'm sure, as well as the President visiting Leo."

"Yes, sir. And, if those are the only other people arriving, when will they be here?"

"Hold on," Josh said, extending his finger towards Agent Dempsey. "What's the deal here? Leo's," Josh laughed, "Leo's been in a car accident. It will not just be Donna and me who have come to visit him. Leo has a daughter, and a large group of people who may as well just be family. If you're trying to restrict the numbers of visitors, or—"

"We're just trying to keep any information from leaking to the media."

"Why, though?" Donna shot in.

"It's – it's sort of a complicated situation. Why don't – I'll have Dr. Morgan come and speak to you two. He's the doctor who – he'll tell you everything. I don't feel comfortable discussing this without the correct medical terms. But, you two need to promise me that anything Dr. Morgan says will be kept within a small group of people. A group you can trust. If the media gets wind of what has happened before we're ready to deal with it – well, it could be catastrophic. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Josh said with conviction.

"Ms. Moss?"

"Yes."

"I'll be right back with the doctor. In the mean time, Agent Bernard will help you with anything you need." And with a smile, Agent Dempsey walked off and Josh pulled Donna over to him.

"What the _hell _is going on here?"

"I have no idea," Donna replied breathlessly.


	9. Chapter 9

I've caught up with myself; I don't already have the next chapter written. I've started it, but it isn't done. This is still more dragging out, but I promise, in the next chapter (which should be longer) it'll all come together. Hopefully.

* * *

Everyone rose to their feet. President Bartlet had entered the room again, though this time with less force than before.

"I just called Leo's daughter and ex-wife to let them know Leo had been involved in the accident," he announced.

"How did they take it, sir?" C.J. asked.

Bartlet's eyes looked glassy. He looked up at C.J. and began to tell another one of his tales:

"I've known Leo for many, many years. I've seen him at his highs, and I've seen him at his lows. I've watched his life shape and change, and I've seen Mallory grow up from this little tiny girl who always could catch her father's eye to this beautiful young woman: powerful, smart, and commanding. It wasn't until today, not until today, over the phone, that I'd ever heard her cry."

C.J. didn't know what to do. "I'm sorry, sir," she mumbled.

"We'd be all be out together, Abbey and me and the girls, Leo and Jenny and Mallory, years ago when the kids were still kids, spending time with other families, letting the kids play with one another, while the adults kicked back and relaxed. Of course at the parties or the get-togethers some of the little boys would eventually start picking on the girls who were there. One time, we were at a family picnic and Elizabeth came running over towards us crying, because some boy had knocked her down. Now, the boy had done the same to Mallory, but, she didn't shed a tear. No, not the daughter of Leo McGarry. She saved face. Jenny later told Abbey that once they had gotten in the car to go home Mallory broke down in tears. Mallory'd only when the fewest people were looking; the people who wouldn't judge her.

"I'd never heard her cry until today." He stopped. "Didn't even cry when we told her about the heart attack. Not over the phone at least."

The room was silent. C.J. knew that this side of the President was one not very often viewed by outsiders.

"Anyway," Bartlet said, snapping out of his state, "Ron, what do we know?"

"At this time, we do not believe there was any sort of attack or foul play involved."

Bartlet finally sat down, and pulled out his glasses to read the report that had been put in front of him. "And how do we know this?"

"There were two agents in the front of the car, one who was driving, and the other in the passenger's seat—"

"And what is their condition?"

"We still don't know the condition of any of the passengers."

Bartlet looked up from the file. "Why not?"

"There's something going on inside of G.W. – they're not disclosing the information until they can secure all media leaks."

"They're withholding evidence from the Secret Service?"

"The agents inside the hospital know. We also have people from the FBI there as well."

"How can they withhold information? Is there a national security threat?"

"No."

"Then why don't we know anything? Can they legally do this?" Bartlet began to become irate. "C.J., I want Special Agent Casper from the Bureau here now."

"He's on his way, sir," she replied.

Bartlet returned his attention to Agent Butterfield. "Ron, they're keeping you in the dark?"

"For the time being, sir. We still aren't sure if there was corruption from within the agency."

"And if someone from the hospital were to phone over with the information or transfer it, there's a possibility it could get out to the public?"

"We're trying to contain the problem. We don't want mass hysteria over a non-issue."

What was one to think? The situation was beyond words.

"What was it that you were saying about the agents in the front of the car, Ron?" Bartlet asked, remembering that he had interrupted Agent Butterfield earlier.

"Right," Agent Butterfield began. "The man who was driving the car, Agent Dennis Berkeley, has worked in the Secret Service for ten years. His background is impressive, and there is nothing to suggest that he purposely drove the car into the telephone pole. However, Agent Berkeley has had a series of seizures in the past."

"Seizures?"

"He hasn't had one in twenty-five years, but, yes, he had seizures in the past."

"And yet he was still able to become an agent?"

"Yes."

"And we think that's what happened?"

"It would appear to make the most sense. And, until we get the report back from the hospital about the condition of the car's occupants, we won't know anything more than that."

The President took in the information, then turned to C.J. asking, "Josh and Donna – they've gone to the hospital?"

"Yes, sir. They weren't originally allowed clearance into the building, so Ron and I had to phone to the Agent in Charge at GW."

"And their status, now?"

"I haven't spoken to them in, I don't know, fifteen minutes?"

"Get them on the phone, please?"

"Yes, sir."


	10. Chapter 10

So, basically, if you blacked out and thought you read the last whatever number chapters before this one, I've reviewed everything. Not intentionally, but that's just how I decided to write all this. If this were a chapter for a "24" story I'd be proud of myself.

Oh, and don't worry, I posted another chapter right along with this one. I tried having it all be one chapter, but it seemed funny. These two chapters should probably make up three, but I figured posting three new chapters would be a bit excessive. It's just the way I've chosen to write this thing. Weird pacing.

* * *

"Josh Lyman."

"Josh," C.J. began, "I'm in the Situation Room with the President, what's going on?"

"Donna and I can't see him."

"Why not?"

"They've – one of the Secret Service guys, uh, his name's Dempsey, has gone to get to the doctor who worked on Leo."

"But they aren't letting you see him?"

"Not yet. We don't know anything, either."

"Josh, this is Ron Butterfield."

"Hello, sir."

"The agents over there have also been keeping me out of the loop personally, as well as the President. They're trying very diligently to keep all the information inside."

"Okay," Josh began to reply, but then stopped. "I'm sorry, sir, but they're keeping you, _and _the President out of the loop?"

"Yes."

"Sir, does this have anything to do with national security?"

"I'm wondering the same thing, Josh," the President chimed in.

"Hello, Mr. President. Are you holding up alright?" Josh was surprised he had even spoken.

"I'm fine, Josh. Just told Mallory and Jenny about Leo, so spirits aren't too high over here."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"It's fine, Josh. Now, Ron, tell Josh what you just told me about the agent driving the car."

"The agent's name is Dennis Berkeley," Agent Butterfield began. "As I told the President, he's been with the service ten years, impressive background, but has a history of seizures in the past."

"Seizures?" Josh was shocked.

"Yes."

"So, we think he had a seizure and drove the car into the telephone pole? Nothing to do with national security, right?"

"Right."

"Then why are Donna and I being barred from seeing Leo right now?"

"We can't rule out corruption from within the agency just yet, Josh. The FBI is also investigating things, but for right now there's nothing we can do from over here."

"Is there anything I can?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Is there any way I can help you out? They can't legally be keeping all this information. If I tried to get the doctor who worked on Leo out here sooner, that would be fine, right?"

"Josh," C.J. started in, "I wouldn't harass the Secret Service or FBI."

"I won't. I'm just going to try to butt my way in."

"I can't authorize this," the President yelled.

"It's not anything to authorize. I'm thinking aloud."

"Josh, I don't think that it's really—" Ron began to say, when the line went dead.

"Did he just hang up?" Kate asked incredulously.

"Yeah," C.J. replied, sighing. Oh, things were starting to get interesting.


	11. Chapter 11

I got distracted and took a like 20-hour long space in between writing this one big speech and the aftermath, so I think I screwed up the characters. Whatever. I'll fix them all and make it all emotional and make them act correctly later. Bear with me. Again.

* * *

"Josh?" Donna asked, her eyebrows raised. He had just been talking on the phone with what Donna assumed to be the people in the White House Situation Room and had bizarrely shut the phone off, after threatening to attack the Secret Service. Or, well, force his way into seeing Leo's doctor. "Josh?" she asked again after he refused to answer.

He turned around and faced her, a slightly manic look on his face, bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly, his cell phone closed up at his mouth. "Yeah?" he replied, not looking at Donna, but at the hallway behind her.

"What are you doing?"

Eye contact. "That was the President and Ron Butterfield and C.J. and, well, everyone in the Situation Room."

"And?"

"They don't think this is national security related."

"I heard you say that they were keeping the President out of the loop."

"And Ron Butterfield. They aren't telling anyone anything. They think the agent that was driving the car had a seizure. But no one's ruled out corruption from within the agencies, so that's why they're not releasing information."

"And now you're going to threaten a Secret Service agent?"

Josh laughed. "I'm not going to – or, well –" It was difficult to articulate. Donna had basically gotten exactly what he was going to do. No use denying it. "Yeah, I'm going to use my power of words and my status and demand that we see Leo."

"I'm coming with you."

"What?" Josh had planned on receiving a scolding, not encouragement.

"I'm coming with you. Backup."

"You're going to be my wingman?"

"Don't say that. Amy used to say that about you and her. I'm your partner in crime."

"We're not committing a crime."

"We're doing things for the good of the President. Let's go."

Josh watched as Donna grabbed her purse and started walking over to the little huddle of government employees. "Come on!" she yelled, beckoning him with her arm. He started to jog, quickly catching up with her, as the two walked over to Agent Bernard.

"Excuse me," Josh said, interrupting the agents.

"Yes, Mr. Lyman, what can I do for you?"

"Look. I understand the fact that you all are trying to keep things under wraps over here. That if anything gets out about Leo's condition, about the other occupants of the car, there could be a lot of problems for you all. But, here's the thing. Right now, Donna and I are the only ones who are here, and, are going to be the only people here for a while. The President knows nothing, _nothing _about a man who he's known for ages. My father was a dear friend of Leo McGarry, I worked with him as his deputy for almost seven years. Leo is like family. He, Donna, and I, we're all part of this weird, twisted family. This family of people who have been working to fix this damn world since we came into office eight years ago. We may not have done everything perfectly, but it is because of this man whom Donna and I are trying to see that things have gone as well as they have. If you don't let us into see this Dr. Morgan right now, I swear to God, there'll be a reckoning. I may not work for the guy, but I still have the President's ear, so give us access _now_."

The room had quieted down quite a bit, with people turning and staring at Josh, and at Donna, whose eyes, of course, were also turned at Josh. Agent Bernard slowly began to do something, while Josh continued to stare him down. He lifted his arm and began to talk into his communicator. "This is Bernard, we need Dempsey and Dr. Morgan in the lobby as soon as possible, please."

"Thank you," Josh whispered, standing back and looking at Donna. "Was that acceptable for your doing of good for the President?"

"Um, yeah," Donna stared at him. "That was good."

"Glad to hear it. Now, let's find out what the hell is happening."

-------

It took an additional two minutes for Agent Dempsey to appear with Dr. Morgan from deep within the operating rooms of G.W. When they finally came into the lobby, Josh shot up from where he was sitting and Donna followed close behind.

"Dr. Morgan?" Josh asked, walking up to Agent Dempsey and the man he was escorting.

"Yes," Dr. Morgan replied, extending his hand. "And you must be Josh Lyman?"

"Yeah, and this is Donna Moss."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Moss."

"Likewise, doctor."

"Now, Agent Dempsey was saying that you two were inquiring about Leo McGarry."

"Yeah."

"It's – it's – there have – I don't know how to put this really the correct way, I'm afraid."

Josh's face fell. The small amount of hope that he had been holding on to was slowly slipping from his grasp. "What's wrong with Leo?"

"During the crash, Mr. McGarry experienced what appears to have been extensive head trauma. We tried to operate when he arrived, but the paramedics said that it was too late. His heart had stopped beating on the way to the hospital several times, and they tried to revive him. We managed to keep him alive for a few more minutes, enough time to take a few tests, but, I'm sorry to say that it was all too late. The head trauma was extensive and Mr. McGarry wasn't in the best of health. We tried as best we could, but he didn't make it. I'm extremely sorry Mr. Lyman, Ms. Moss. I know how shocking this news is and how integral he was in the Bartlet Administration and in the current campaign, but there was really nothing we could do."

Donna instinctively reached for Josh's hand, and squeezed it, though Josh gave no response. Instead, he stared into space. "Josh?" she asked.

Josh began to focus and spoke slowly and softly saying, "He's gone?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry, Mr. Lyman," the doctor replied.

Ever since Josh's father had died, Leo had been, at the very least of his multiple duties, a surrogate one for Josh. Donna had been the one to tell Josh the news about his father, albeit abruptly, for it was a time of celebration in the Bartlet campaign. This time the circumstances were so very, very different. Leo was imperatively important in this race with Vinick. They were losing, there was nothing to celebrate just yet. And now, things were a lot worse.

"Okay," Josh whispered. "Excuse us a minute, doctor? I just – Donna and I need to decide how to handle this."

"Yes, sir. I'm so sorry."

Josh, for what felt like the seven hundredth time that day, dragged Donna off with him to have a private conference. Tears were welling up in Donna's eyes, and yet she tried to keep everything together.

"We have to make calls."

"Yeah," she replied, holding back a sob. "Do you want to call the President?"

"Okay. You call Lou."

"All right," she replied, looking up at Josh's face. "Are you okay?"

Josh seemed to be shocked Donna was asking. "I'm fine. I'll be okay. Right now I am fine. I can handle this. It's – horrible – but we've gotta move on for right now. There'll be time to be sad later. Right now, we've gotta be strong, okay? You and me both. I know you usually pick up my pieces, but this time we're gonna have to help each other. Okay?"

"Yes."

"Let's get going. These have to be some of the worst calls of our life ahead."

Even as Josh sounded secure, Donna could see the distant look in his eyes. She wiped her own from where the tears were spilling over and started dialing the number for the campaign headquarters. How different life had become in the past hour.


	12. Chapter 12

NSI said: Interesting story, but I have a question -- where did Annabeth go? She was 5

minutes behind Leo and one of the closest people to him in the past months? Wouldn't she be at the hospital before Josh and Donna?

Ooo, psyche. I'm glad to see people actually read this comprehensively. I can't write comprehensively. Here. I fixed it. :)

* * *

Everyone was sitting in the same room, staring at the televisions. CNN, Fox News, MSNBC – they were all showing the images of a crashed SUV. Every so often the channels would update everyone on the rest of the news going on in the world, but, a car driven by the US Secret Service topped everything that was going on today. There didn't seem to be any bombings going on in the Middle East. The news was all about that the wreck that had happened in DC, and the Santos-McGarry campaign headquarters wondered the exact same thing.

"Did I miss something, or have they not released any names yet?" Ronna asked.

"No," Bram replied. "They aren't saying anything."

"Isn't that weird?"

"Very," Santos interjected.

They sat in silence for another few minutes, until Lou's cell phone began to ring. She glanced at the caller ID.

"Who is it?" Bram asked.

"Donna." Lou opened up her phone and hit the green button. "You have any news?"

The directness with which Lou answered the phone startled Donna. Josh was right, this had to be one of the worst calls she'd ever have to make. There was no point in trying to get around any of it; she'd just have to tell Lou directly. "The Secret Service wouldn't let us in at first, but—"

"Hang on a minute," Lou interrupted. "Let me put you on speakerphone. Okay, we're set."

"What I was saying was that at first the agents here wouldn't let Josh and me in, but then we called C.J. and she got us into the hospital. Then we had to wait for the doctor, because they're trying to keep stuff from leaking out."

"It's security related?" asked Lou.

"No, no. They just don't want any information out yet because they can't rule out conspiracy. But, Josh and I finally talked to the doctor." Donna's voice cracked. "He said that Leo had suffered massive head trauma and that the paramedics tried but they could barely save him. They tried to get him here, and he was okay for a few minutes, but then he didn't make it. The doctor said that there was nothing that they could do. He's gone. I don't know what to do."

"Oh, my God," Santos said in a whisper-like voice. "Donna, are you sure they've done everything?"

"Yes, sir. He didn't make it."

"What about the other people in the car?"

"I – I don't know. We didn't ask about them."

"Could you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And, Donna," Lou added, "we're going to need you to – I don't want to make light of the situation, but we need the official time and cause of death. That stuff. Could you get it?"

"Yeah, I think I can. As long as they're willing to give it. They won't release anything publicly until they're absolutely positive no one did anything to cause the accident."

"Thank you, Donna," the Congressman said.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I'll call you again with anything else." And with that, Donna closed the phone. She looked over at Josh who was still on the phone with what she assumed was the group of people in the Situation Room. I can't even imagine how hard this has to be on the President, she thought to herself. Leo and he were – Leo's the whole reason the President's there right now. Bartlet for America. She headed over towards Josh, putting her hand on his shoulder and looking at him as he finished the phone call.

"Thank you, sir. Yes, I won't leak anything. I'm definitely going to follow in accordance with the Secret Service and FBI, Mike. Thank you."

"You tell him?" she asked once he hung up.

"No."

"You didn't?"

"He wasn't in the room when I called. C.J. said she'd tell him. How did your call go?"

"Not well. Or, well, I guess it went fine. Not like these _can _go well. The Congressman seemed pretty upset."

"Yeah," Josh replied, as he grabbed both of Donna's hands. She smiled. It definitely helped that he wanted to hold her hand hands.

"Lou needs me to find out the official time of death and cause of death, what should I do?"

"Go talk to the doctor. I just got yelled at by Mike Casper to make sure we don't release anything to the media until the investigation is done. He finally got to speak to the people here and the agent who was in the passenger's seat should be able to talk soon."

"Really? He's going to be okay?"

"Yeah. He was lucky."

"Was there anyone else in the car aside from Leo and the two agents?"

"No. But, the agent who was driving the car is in critical condition. The other guy's the only hope for information."

Donna sighed. "This was all so unforeseen. Ask anyone about this, and I bet you that no one would have chosen Leo dying in a car accident over some other ailment. Presidents get shot more often than Secret Service vehicles get in accidents."

"I know."

Just then Donna saw Agent Dempsey walking by. She broke her hands from Josh's and ran over towards him.

"Excuse me, Agent Dempsey!"

He stopped and turned. "Yes, Ms. Moss?"

"I need to talk to Dr. Morgan. I've spoken to campaign headquarters, and everyone there knows not to leak any information until the investigation is completed and the Secret Service and the FBI give it the okay, but I need to find out information."

Donna looked as the man gave her a somewhat skeptical look. His demeanor then changed and he extended his arm in the direction of the doctor. "He's over there."

"Thank you," Donna said in a tone that audibly thanked the man for his compassion and walked over towards Dr. Morgan, Josh following her.

"Dr. Morgan, would it be possible to talk to you in private for a minute?"

"Did the agents say it was okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay," he replied, and began to walk over to the hallway that lead to the operating rooms. He brought them over into a corner. "What is it that you need to know?"

"Basic things: time of death, cause of death. Just facts I can use later when we'll need to put out a press release."

"Fine. I need to go get the information from my office, so I'll need you to wait here." He began to walk away, but instead turned around, saying, "Actually, on second thought – well, she didn't want anyone to know that she was here, but I thought it was all right because she was accompanied by an agent of her own – Mr. McGarry's sister is here. She arrived before that big caravan you see in the lobby and is outside the operating room Mr. McGarry was in."

Josh and Donna exclaimed glances. _What the hell? _

"I'm sorry, doctor," Josh began, "you said Leo's sister is here?"

"Yes. She arrived right after before we got him into surgery."

"His sister? Josephine?"

"No, no," the doctor replied. "Annabeth."


	13. Chapter 13

"_Annabeth!_" Donna squealed.

"Yes," Dr. Morgan replied. "She was very shaken up, so she asked not to tell any of the other Secret Service agents she was here except for the one that accompanied her." He looked at Donna, whose face was one of pure confusion. "I'm sorry, should I not have let her in? You look surprised, Ms. Moss."

"Oh, it's not that," Josh recovered for Donna. "We just didn't think Annabeth was in town today. We thought she was getting here tomorrow. Could we go talk with her?"

"Yes. I think that would be fine. If you go down this hallway and take a left, you should see her. Last I checked she was still outside. I'll meet you there with Mr. McGarry's file."

"Thank you," Josh said as he and Donna walked off towards the operating room.

"Annabeth told the doctor she was Leo's sister?"

"It makes sense," Josh replied. Donna glared at him. "—sort of, I guess."

"What was she thinking?"

"Probably that she wouldn't be able to get in to see Leo as quickly if she didn't say she was a family member."

"But Leo was able to see the President when he was shot! Leo wasn't his family."

"No, but everyone knew who Leo McGarry was. No one knows Annabeth Schott."

"I guess, but it just seems strange."

"Well, she said she was going to meet me here," Josh reasoned, "and then we didn't see her. I was too – caught up with what was going on, I forgot about how she said she was coming. Didn't you?"

"Honestly – yes."

They turned the corner, and saw her sitting down in front of the window of the operating room. A Secret Service agent stood over against the opposite wall. She was shaking a little bit, holding on to tissues. Josh and Donna walked in, but she didn't hear them. They stood, staring at her, wondering what to do. Donna got up the courage to first speak to her.

"Annabeth?"

She turned around, her face stained with tears, and started crying harder.

"Oh, Annabeth," Donna sighed, walking towards her and embracing her in a hug. "I'm so sorry, Annabeth. I'm so sorry."

"They tried – they tried to help him," she said between sobs. "After – after I talked to Josh, I – I sped all the way here and got here before they – they – they brought him into surgery. They – tried – but it – but it was too late, Donna. It was too late. I should have been in the car with him, but I didn't go. I decided to stay back and organize some things – I should have been there before it all ended. And now he's gone and there's nothing I can do."

Josh stood still, not knowing what to do next. It was funny, he thought, how Annabeth's reaction seemed to be the same one he was feeling right now. That he should have been in the car rather than Leo. He and Annabeth were two people completely dedicated to someone, though in different ways. Josh in the manner of a son, Annabeth in – well, there was always something about Leo and Annabeth, but no one really ever mentioned it.

"I didn't know what I should do when I got here, so I said I was Leo's sister," she said with a laugh. "I was going to call, explain what had happened, but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. I knew you'd be here soon enough, and – oh, I'm just so sorry you have to see me like this, Donna." She dabbed at her eyes with the tissues again. "Where's Josh?"

"Right here," Josh answered.

"I'm sorry I didn't call, Josh. I'm really sorry –" She started to sob again. It was Josh's turn to walk over and give her a hug.

"Don't even worry about it. We found out, everything's fine."

"No, everything isn't fine," she replied. "But I'm sure we'll figure out what we're going to do next."

The doctor walked into the room and handed Donna the folder with Leo's information, to which Donna replied with a quiet "Thank you."

He left again, leaving the three, plus the Secret Service agent, to themselves. And as they remained in that part of the hospital, all three thought the same thing: Where do we go from here?


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry, I was actually, like, busy this week. I'm still busy, but I managed to write this thing. It isn't long, it's ineloquent (much like the last chapter), but I'm moving the story along – sort of. Don't hate me for any of the strange things I've thrown in here, please. :)

* * *

Sam hadn't felt so tired since his days back in the White House. Sure, he ended up being very busy as a district attorney, but the hours just weren't as crazy as working in Washington. He had crashed into his bed at four and planned to sleep all day. Then, at 7:00, his phone rang.

Sam glanced over at his alarm clock. Honest to God, he thought to himself, If this is Anne, I'm going to kill her. He reached down trying to pick up the cordless phone from its base on the floor, hurrying as he assumed it must be close to the fifth ring, and subsequently smacked his knuckles against the leg of his nightstand. Finally, success.

"Hello?" he sighed into the phone.

"Sam?"

"—Donna?"

"Yeah."

"Hey!" Sam exclaimed. "How are you?"

"I'm doing okay," she replied, trying to remain calm about telling Sam the news. "I'm sorry to call you so early, but – something's happened."

Oh, God, Sam thought before he answered with, "What is it?"

"The Secret Service car that Leo was riding in got into an accident—"

"Oh, God," Sam mumbled, this time actually saying the words aloud.

"And Josh and I got here as fast as we could, but it took a lot of time before we could get any news. We talked to the doctor and he said – he said that Leo had suffered extensive head trauma, and when they got him into surgery – they couldn't save him, Sam. The injuries were too extensive and his body just couldn't handle it. He's gone. I'm so sorry to have to tell you."

Sam felt numb. Was he dreaming? He had to have been. He hadn't actually spoken with Donna on the phone in months, with the campaign for her and the important cases he had been working on. There was no way that he was awake. There was no way Leo could be dead.

"Sam?" Donna's voice snapped him out of his daze. He got up out of bed and walked over to the TV in his room, turning it on and sitting down on the end of his bed. The image of a crushed SUV and the caption "Secret Service Car Crashes in D.C." on CNN brought him back. No, he wasn't dreaming. This was real.

"Sam?" Donna asked again. He was inarticulate. What could he possibly say?

"Was there – was there anyone else in the car?" he stuttered out.

"Two agents. One of them, the guy who was driving the car, is in critical condition, and the other one should be able to talk soon, so we can find out exactly what happened."

"What do people think _did _happen?"

"The belief is that the agent driving the car had a seizure."

"God," Sam sighed. "Are you holding up okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"And Josh?"

"He's – excellent."

Sam was shocked. "Really?"

"Yeah. He's handling it brilliantly. I'm actually kind of scared."

"Expecting a meltdown of horrific proportions later?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna have to be careful."

They paused, with Sam breaking the silence saying, "Donna, I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say."

"It's okay. You really don't need to say anything. I know how you feel."

"It's probably too soon for this, but – there'll be a funeral service pretty soon, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm coming out there."

"You're coming to Washington?"

"Soonest flight. It feels wrong to be here right now."

Donna couldn't help but smile. Having Sam back here was going to make things much better. "Thank you, Sam."

"Don't thank me, it's the only thing I can do. I want to be there to help with anything and everything."

"Great," she replied, still smiling. Then, she thought of something, her face falling. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you been talking to Toby?"

"Yeah, actually. Not a lot, because he doesn't really want to talk to anyone, but once we got over the initial phone call of Toby yelling for 99 percent of it, we've spoken several other times with less yelling."

"Then I need you to do your first thing to help us out."

Sam didn't need explaining. "I'll do it."

"Right now?"

"Yeah, he deserves to know at the exact same time I do, regardless of whether or not he leaked state secrets."

"Thank you, Sam."

"You're welcome. Hang in there Donna, and tell Josh I say the same," he replied, hitting the off button.

His day of sleep had turned into a busy one. Things to do: call Toby, call Anne and let her know he'd be leaving town for a few days, and call the airline. If only he were going back to see his friends under different circumstances.


	15. Chapter 15

Sorry, I had writer's block. This is kind of the transition chapter, and, per usual, it says the EXACT SAME THING AS THE LAST FOURTEEN CHAPTERS! Oh well. And, now, since "The Cold" has aired, I'd like to say that this is all alternate universe to an extent. Well, actually, I guess it's just alternate universe to anything after "Duck and Cover." This is short, and I'm sorry, but at least I've started to write again… :) … even if this sort of, um, sucks.

* * *

Something had been going on even before they had begun their decent. The Secret Service seemed more nervous, more preoccupied. When they landed, however, Abbey really noticed the change. Instead of a few agents to bring her back to the White House in her limousine, there were masses of them, all guarding her and assisting her off the plane – courteously, of course.

"Katherine, what's going on here?" Mrs. Bartlet asked one of her staffers.

"I don't know, ma'am."

Abbey looked around for her head of security detail. Upon spotting him, she called out his name.

"Daniel!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Daniel, can you tell me why it is there are so many agents here, and why it is on the plane you all were running around?"

"Ma'am, I am not at liberty to tell you—"

"Can you just generalize it?" Mrs. Bartlet interrupted.

"There was an incident earlier involving one of the detail's cars. We weren't sure at the time whether it was the work of terrorists, so we put your security on high alert."

Abbey's eyes widened. "Was anyone hurt?"

"One fatality so far, ma'am."

"And how many injured?"

"Two."

"Can you tell me who was in the car?"

"I have been ordered not to."

Mrs. Bartlet nodded her head. "Are the two injured okay?"

"Critical condition and stable condition between the two, ma'am."

"Thank you, Daniel," Abbey responded, walking towards her limo, somewhat dazed. She hopped in the car and sat down, staring out the window. Abbey didn't want to admit it, but something seemed funny about the news of this accident.

The partition between the driver and the back of the limo dropped.

"Mrs. Bartlet, the President is on the phone for you," Daniel said, sitting in the passenger's seat up front. Abbey hastily picked up the phone and the car began to roll.

"Jed?"

"Hey."

"There was a problem with a Secret Service car in the area?"

"Yeah."

There was a flatness to her husband's voice. Immediately Abbey sensed a problem. "Jed, what's the matter?"

"The car that crashed – they say the guy driving it had a seizure, but the thing is is that it was Leo in the car, Abbey, and he didn't make it."

"Oh, Jed," she gasped.

"Yeah. I'm not really quite sure what to do."

Abbey felt her eyes begin to tear up. "Have you called Mallory and Jenny?"

"They both started crying when I spoke to them."

"Oh, Jed."

"I haven't called any of our girls yet, though. I don't really know what to do. The news is new. We couldn't even find out for a while, and the public's not supposed to know until the FBI rules out foul play. But he suffered massive head trauma and his heart couldn't take it all and now he's gone."

"Was any of his staff in the car with him?"

"No, he was alone. He went in the car alone. He went _out _alone. And I can't help but think that someone should have been there with him."

By this time tears were rolling down Abbey's cheeks. Now _she_ didn't know what to do. "I'll be there in a few minutes, all right?"

"I love you. I don't think I've said it enough lately."

She smiled and gave a small laugh. "You say it plenty enough, and I love you too. I'll be there soon."


	16. Chapter 16

Have any of you ever been to Well, if you've been there and taken a look around, there are some "articles" on there, and one includes Josh's mother, and they said her name was Patricia. Since I absolutely hate naming people (especially Josh's mom – I should probably take a census of what her name has been in other stories, and _then _name her) I have decided to call her Patricia. Because I'm unoriginal like that.

Also, her characterization is VERY generic. Sue me.

Oh, and the way I handled Toby was mediocre and lazy. Again, sue me.

Actually, I take that back. If you have problems with those two decisions, do tell me. I'd like to know.

I was in an absolutely ('scuse the language) bitchy mood writing this, and tried to just move things along. It would have been far too painstaking to go through all the motions in real time, so instead I'm going to do what I did in this chapter. I actually am writing this note while in the middle of writing the chapter, so I can't tell you exactly what I did, because I don't even know yet. Ha! Talk about organization. (And clear sentence structure. I don't think I understand what I wrote.)

Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this story. I appreciate it so much. It may sound silly, but it makes me feel so loved, even though sometime the writing itself sucks. It's a nice little pick-me-up to see that someone cares when I get a review or whatever, and I love you all for it. So much.

Sorry to get all sappy and long winded on you guys. :(

* * *

Honestly: this was the first time he had woken up any time later than 9:00 in quite some time. The campaign did that to a person. Also, the fact that A. he hadn't even set his alarm, and B. he was being awoken by a phone call was pretty damn weird, too. But, then again, it wasn't as if things had been going on too normally lately anyway. Josh rolled over to grab his cell phone. 

"Hello?" he sleepily spoke into the phone.

"Hi, honey."

"Oh, hey, mom," Josh replied, sitting up in the bed. "How are you doing?"

"Fine."

"I'm really sorry I haven't been able to call you more often. As you can probably assume, things have been pretty crazy around here." Josh felt guilty. As soon as it was publicly announced, the first person on his call list had been his mother. Knowing Leo for the number of years she did, it seemed wrong for Patricia Lyman to be left to find out the news of the death on her own accord. It surprised Josh enough that when the report of the vehicle crashing showed up on TV that his mom didn't call. That was of course all explained when it turned out she had been out with her lady friends. Josh laughed whenever he thought of his mom and all the other ladies in the retirement home; Betty, Marcella, Eileen, and Theresa were quite the wild 65+ bunch.

"Really, the world of professional politics, crazy?" she quipped. She cleared her throat and then continued, realizing that humor probably wasn't the total best in this situation. "But, no, honestly, everyone's doing okay? Donna? You? Donna?"

Josh smiled. His mom _loved _Donna. Absolutely adored her. Of course, who _didn't _love Donna? As he had said to Joe Quincy during the Republican's interview a few years back, how could anyone hate Donna? She's from Wisconsin, for crying out loud!

But, his mom loved Donna in a different way. It was sort of in the same way that Josh had loved Leo, or rather, Leo loved Josh. There was somewhat of a parent-child relationship at hand – surrogacy parenthood. Of course, Donna didn't need another mother – her mom was having fun with Donna's nieces and nephews in Madison – but, Patricia was always willing to treat Donna like the newest member of the Lyman family, and Donna allowed herself to be treated that way. Josh knew that his mother could also clearly see on her radar that there was something more than boss-assistant feelings between her son and his subordinate. Josh knew that she saw it. Josh knew that he felt it, but he hadn't wanted to admit it years ago, and he didn't want to admit it right now. It made him feel sick. It was better off to push the feelings of – well, love, despite his reservations admitting it – off to the side for the time being. At least until the boat became righted once more in this surprise storm. If the power plant disaster had been the Perfect Storm to the Vinick campaign, Leo's death was that to the Santos. Damn what life had to offer sometimes.

Josh left his thoughts and returned to his mother's question. "She's fine, mom. Doing very well. Same with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. We're fine."

"All right then. The Congressman dealing with it well?"

"As well as he can. We finally decided yesterday that we were going to wait until after the election to nominate a vice presidential candidate. We're announcing it today."

Patricia smiled. She was happy the campaign had come to that conclusion. "Good. It seems fitting."

"Yeah. I took on the job of getting Matthew Santos the Presidency and Leo McGarry the number two spot, and I'm going to continue it. Plus it shows the voters we're not afraid of Congress. We trust the citizens' judgment, and therefore their representatives should be able to appoint a worthy candidate."

"Donna going to be saying those exact words to the press?"

"Well, I'm sure Lou will change them up a little bit, but that's the jist."

"It works."

"Thanks."

Josh's mother sighed. Now it was time to get into the questions that had been really plaguing her for the past few days. "Did Sam arrive from California yet?"

"Yesterday. I haven't seen him yet. C.J. did, and Toby did too."

Toby. That's what had been worrying her. "Oh. And what about Toby? Is he going to – will he be able to show his face at the service?"

"No."

"No?" Patricia was shocked.

"No. He can't legally be there. He's not pissed, but more depressed than anything. Sam said that Toby's been working on some remarks to be read at the funeral in his absence. Toby acts okay over the phone, but I'm sure this has all taken a bigger toll on him than he wants to admit."

"There's no way that he can show up for the funeral? The President can't give out an Executive Order or anything like that?"

Josh laughed. "E.O. 28274873: Toby Ziegler, though incarcerated for leaking state secrets, may attend the funeral of Leo McGarry. Nah, I don't see it happening."

"The President couldn't pardon him?"

"He could."

"But he isn't."

"Yeah."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," Josh sighed. The problem of what to do about Toby had been weighing on him for days. It was just an impossible situation.

"That's too bad."

"It's not what Leo would have wanted," he blurted out.

His mother frowned. "No, it's not. But, Leo would understand the way these things work. He understands why Toby won't be there. And I'm sure that if Toby's working on something, it's going to be good. State of the Unions, Inaugural Addresses… he's a very talented young man. Same with Sam. Leo had two good kids working for him years back."

Josh chuckled. "Oh, wow. Thanks mom."

"Oh, darn," she replied sarcastically. "Did I forget to mention some bright young man working for Leo? Silly me. I'm getting so forgetful in my old age." The smile on her face was evident in the sound of her voice. She loved giving her son a hard time. Though, usually it was about Donna.

Her son sighed. "You sure you don't want me to get you into the funeral? I am sure I can fit you in on the guest list. It's tight, but you knew Leo, so—"

"No. All I want is Mallory's address. I figure it'd be nice to send her a card. I'd send one to Jenny, but she's remarried and – it just seems inappropriate. Mallory seems like the default person for a card, even though I really don't know her very well."

"You'd love her."

"I met her once a while back. Your father and Leo met up and we got to say a little hello to the young McGarry girl. Very pretty. The apple of her father's eye, it seemed." Patricia frowned. "You know her. How is she taking all this?"

"Badly. Well, not badly, but – he died. She's not a happy person." Josh realized his words were callous. "Sorry to be blunt."

"Don't worry about it. Just find out Mallory's address and give me it when you get a chance. And, take care of yourself, do you hear me? Don't make me worry. I'll be calling Donna and having her reinforcing her old 'rules' if I suspect anything's up. And, I've infiltrated your campaign. You cannot hide your actions from me, even when I'm in Florida. The proverbial eyes in the back of my head are making sure you're being good, okay?"

"Yes, mom."

"I love you. Get Leo elected, will 'ya?"

"I'm trying," Josh replied with a small smile. "You better do your part though – we need those electoral votes in Florida."

"I'll do my best, Joshua. Good-bye."

"Love you."

And with that, Josh flipped his cell phone closed. He pushed his head back and closed his eyes. Another day had begun, though he would have given anything to go back three days earlier. He should have stopped the crash.


	17. Chapter 17

Just a reminder: my story is not canon to the actual show with any episode through 7.12, "Duck and Cover." So, the huuuge moment in "The Cold" does not exist in my little world. Oh, and I might just inadvertently change some facts from season six – I've never seen it. :(

I love Kristin Chenoweth, even though I've barely seen Annabeth. I hope that the whole long speech she gives is remotely in character, but whatever.

THIS CHAPTER IS OH-SO SAPPY. Like, honestly, I'm somewhat sickened that I wrote it. But, whatever. Thanks for reading!

P.S. "Welcome to Wherever You Are" just completely saddened me with the confirmation of something between Leo and Annabeth. Oh, Leo. Let me take this moment to say you are sorely missed, John Spencer.

Oh, and on a lighter note, watching a Halloween episode of a TV show in March is pretty weird.

* * *

Donna had noted that the mood at headquarters when she walked in early that morning had seemed pretty normal. No one was being extremely moody and silent, no one was crying by the coffee maker, and no one was sitting around doing nothing – though that did happen from time to time. Well, not during the tail end of the campaign, or rather, recently.

Slowly the staffers filed in and began to get to work. Donna couldn't help but notice Josh's absence, but she didn't worry. He'd be in. Sleep was a good thing for the poor guy. Sometimes she wondered how he was still alive, comparing his lack of sleep alone to that of a non-political worker. Josh had worked in politics forever, and within the last ten years he had gotten a President elected, been the Deputy Chief of Staff for the guy, gotten him reelected, been Deputy for a few more years, and then left to start a campaign for another guy – and won him the Presidential nomination. How the _hell _had Josh not passed out from sheer lack of exhaustion? Maybe he's been injecting himself with a syringe of caffeine every hour, Donna laughed to herself.

The feeling of normalcy Donna had enjoyed for the beginning of her morning came to a crashing halt around 9:30, when a loud "DAMMIT!" was heard coming from the other room. Everyone looked up from what they were doing. Being the ranking leader in the room without Lou, Josh, or the Congressman at the offices, Donna walked over into the other room to see what was happening.

"Annabeth? You OK?"

The yell had apparently come from the petite blonde woman. Annabeth stood there, resting her elbows on the table, her head in her hands.

"Yeah, sorry," she responded, lifting her head up. "I know I shouldn't have screamed like that."

"No, it's fine. What's up?"

"It's just – I realized that I left something I needed."

"Where'd you leave it?"

"I had to go into Leo's apartment today to find a folder I had given him the other day. I just realized that while I brought the file I dug out there, I left the one about the media buys in Ohio in its place."

Donna sighed. Though she would have loved to just tell Annabeth to forget it, and not worry, the truth was that they needed the file for Ohio today. "Well—" Donna began, about to propose she and Annabeth leave to go find the file, until she was hit with a good idea. "Actually, I don't think it'll be a problem."

"It won't?"

"No. Is Leo's apartment unlocked?"

"Yeah. Mallory's coming by later to – collect his belongings, start to clear the place out a little, as awful as that sounds. I left it unlocked for her."

"Josh isn't here yet, and if he hasn't left his house I'm sure he could go in and pick the folder up."

Annabeth smiled. It was so unlike her to make such a stupid mistake, and she was glad Donna had apparently found an easy solution. "That would be great."

"Here, let me call," Donna said as she reached for the conference phone on the table. With lightening speed, Donna dialed Josh's cell number. She was a pro at calling it, with her fingers trained to dial at a high speed.

"Hello?"

"Josh? It's me."

"Hey," he sighed. "I'm about to come in – I just – I was on the phone with my mom."

"Oh. How's she doing?"

"Pretty well. What's up?"

"I need you to do Annabeth and me a favor before you come in."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Earlier Annabeth had to go into Leo's apartment to pick up a file that he had, and while she was there, she mistakenly left the media buy folder for Ohio in the new one's place. The apartment's open 'cause Mallory's coming later, and so if you could run in and grab it, that would be, well, awesome."

Josh's stomach dropped. Going into Leo's apartment? It… seemed strange. But whatever, he thought. There's no reason to be silly about this, and it'll save us time. "Sure," he replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Where is it in the house exactly?"

Donna covered the receiver with her hand and turned to Annabeth, saying, "Where did you leave the folder?"

"In his study."

"Study," Donna announced.

"'Kay, I'll be there in – I don't know, half hour tops."

"Sounds good," she replied cheerfully hanging up the phone and looking up at Annabeth, who was staring aimlessly into space. "Hey," she said, snapping the other woman out of her daze, "let's go get a bagel or something."

"No, no," Annabeth replied, "I'm not really that hungry. Thanks though."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well, if you—" Donna began, until Annabeth interrupted her, saying,

"Donna, could we talk for a minute?"

Dumbfounded, Donna answered "Sure," and closed the door to the conference room the two had been standing in. "What's up?"

"This could potentially sound very rude and invasive, but I need to ask you some questions and I want you to be completely honest with me. After you answer them I'll explain why you needed to tell me the answers, okay?"

"Okay." Donna felt almost frightened.

"Donna, you aren't dating anyone right now, are you?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. And you have dated people in the past, right?"

"Well, yeah, but it's been a while, actually."

"But, Donna, you're in love with Josh."

"What?"

"Well you are, aren't you?"

"Annabeth—"

"I'm not one to pry, naturally, but it's just that – I heard stories of those years back during the Bartlet Administration from Leo. How you and Josh were always so close, how when he was shot back at –"

"Rosslyn," Donna breathlessly whispered.

"At there, that you took care of him after he got out of the hospital. Leo told me of dresses, ski books, diaries, balls, commanders, Republicans, feminists, MS, growth, Gaza, Germany, photojournalists, final farewells, and everything from here to there, Santos campaign to Russell campaign.

"He told me that the two of you – that there was no doubt in anyone's mind that someday the two of you would finally wake up and snap out of this misty haze you'd been walking in all these years and realize how in love you were. That you two were it for one another. Sure, each of you'd find distractions for a while, but when it came down to it you were the ones in love and that everyone, and I mean everyone knew it, except for the two of you."

Annabeth paused for a moment, and then continued with a laugh, "Leo would always talk about how he wanted to knock your heads together, albeit he wanted to knock a lot of people's heads together, but knock your heads together and scream it so loud that there would be no way anyone could miss it: 'JOSH, YOU AND DONNA NEED TO STOP DANCING AROUND THIS AND ADMIT IT. YOU ARE IN LOVE, GOD HELP ME, AND I'M SICK OF JUST STANDING HERE AND WATCHING YOU CIRCLE FOR A LANDING.' He'd always say he wanted to yell that."

Donna watched as Annabeth's eyes began to tear.

"It's all about unrequited love, Donna. The love that can never be consummated, never be accomplished. If there is one single, solitary thing that I have learned from working with Leo, it's that life is far, far too short to just circle around love. Because, one day, just like that, you're putting him in the car and meeting him in a few minutes, but your plans get swiped away. Five minutes later you're driving up and you get to see his car wrapped around a telephone pole and you didn't get to say your real goodbye."

By this time Donna was letting tears fall down her cheeks, screwing whatever affect they would have on her make up. The thing with Leo had finally been announced. She finally knew that there was something there. "You loved him, Annabeth?"

"Yeah. But I never got to tell him that. We had our moments of dalliance and romance, but it wasn't enough. It was too soon. The love's not completely unrequited, but in a sense it mainly is. It's all over and it didn't really have a start."

"Oh Annabeth, I'm so sorry," Donna said.

The other woman smiled. "I know, I just wanted to tell you this because I don't want this to happen to you. If you truly love Josh, despite what he may have done to make you quit and the way he may have mistreated you, you've gotta get him and let him know how you feel. Otherwise, it's all over before it begins. I," she stammered for a moment, laughing, "I can give you expert advice on this subject now. But, of course, I can't remember to take the folder for media buys in Ohio."

It was Donna's turn to laugh. "Don't worry about it, Josh will be here with it soon."

"Yeah." The two paused in silence, but it was Annabeth to break it, saying, "Oh, alright, we better get back outside. Get rid of the ruined make up and go win an election."

"Yes," Donna said, going to open the door.

"I promised him we'd win," Annabeth said quietly.

"We will."


	18. Chapter 18

I posted this hastily.

It was pretty frightening to write this, as I have a feeling the expectation for this chapter is relatively high. I don't think I rose to the challenge, but whatever, throw me a bone! I tried! I can't write anything love related, so it was kind of a deterrent.

I'm always weird about having guys break down and cry a little bit, so I tried to keep it to a minimum, but whenever I need an image of a man crying, all I have to do is think about Kiefer Sutherland as Jack Bauer on "24" in the multiple instances where Jack has started to cry. 'Cause, if an ass kicking federal agent doesn't make it okay for a man to cry, and give a good image, I don't know what does. :)

* * *

She had finally begun to worry.

Josh was now an hour and a half late, and it couldn't possibly have taken him an hour to get ready and a half hour to go over to Leo's apartment. Something was up, and if she could get herself off the phone – talking in a conversation that she probably was being absolutely no help in, her mind wandering frantically – she would call Josh's cell, pray that he'd answer, and that everything would be fine.

Ever since Leo, Donna had been a bit panicky about cars – and crashes.

Maybe she shouldn't have sent him.

Or, he could be stopping to get food.

Perhaps he received an important call on his cell and pulled off to the side of the road to talk.

"Donna? Donna?"

She sat up straight in her chair as she realized that she had been completely ignoring the conversation. People from "_Dateline"_ wanted to do a special on Leo – Donna was supposed to coordinate and get it set up so it would air at a time they wanted; more or less, should it be aired before the election, or after? Donna was supposed to get the negotiating done. So far... not so good.

Finally, she'd had it. "I'm sorry, Peter, but can I call you back? We're having some issues over here at headquarters."

"A bit hectic and such?"

"Just a little. I'll call you back?"

"Sounds good."

"Thanks."

She slammed down the phone and picked it up again, selecting a line. With the same speed at which she had dialed earlier, Donna hit the buttons for Josh's cell and held her breath as it rang. Please, please pick up, she said to herself. Please, please.

Three rings.

Four.

Dammit, Josh!

"Donna?" Oh, God.

"Josh? Where the hell are you?"

"I need you."

Donna's eyes widened. Her instincts _had _been right – something clearly had happened. Josh's tone was not one of flirting, but one of urgency. "Where are you?"

"Leo's."

"I'm coming," she replied, throwing down the receiver again and running to find her jacket and purse. How often this seemed to be happening.

"What's wrong?"

Donna looked up to see Edie staring, along with everyone else.

"I've got to go help Josh. He accidentally misplaced something important."

"Oh… 'kay," Edie responded skeptically.

"Where's Annabeth?" Donna asked to the group surrounding her as a whole.

"On the phone," replied Bram.

"Okay, she's in charge," commanded Donna. "Only call me on my cell if it's a real emergency. Same with Josh, okay? Go to Lou."

"What's happening?"

"Nothing." Donna was clearly not convincing any of them. "I'll be back soon."

She ran out the door and with the speed of a track star, found herself at her car, quickly getting in, and driving over towards Leo's apartment. Her mind, once again, raced on the drive over. How could I be so stupid, she thought to herself. Sending Josh to Leo's? Sending him to the home of a friend whose death he thinks he's responsible for? How _could _I have been so stupid!

Donna had never, ever wanted to hurt Josh. But, things had changed between them, and she left to work for Russell. Now, she felt as if they were getting the second chance they needed. If Donna were truly honest with herself, she knew that she had always loved Josh. Just like Annabeth had been talking about earlier. What had she done today, though? She had hurt Josh again.

In his years on earth, Josh had had endured so much suffering, not that anybody really needed reminding of them. Joanie. His father. The President. _Donna_. The last one was the part that Donna wished she could – no, she couldn't decide about Gaza. She had wanted to be part of the CODEL, it was a move that had shown that Josh really did value her. The fact that she had slept with Colin – well, that wasn't so good. The fact that so many people had died – obvious. The fact that Josh had flown to Germany to be with her – amazing.

In the hospital it seemed like maybe there would be a Josh-and-Donna. She had hoped it would be like that… and then… things got, well, different. It was time to leave, so she did. Will offered a job and Donna accepted it. Then Josh left to work for Santos. Leo had had a heart attack, C.J. was now the Chief of Staff, and Charlie wasn't Personal Aide to the President anymore. Things had changed dramatically. And now, add one more to the list of Josh's personal suffering…

Leo.

It _wasn't _Josh's fault that Leo had died. It was not, by any stretch of the imagination. Donna felt for Annabeth, who had wished with all her heart that she had been there with the man she – well, was it too early to say that she loved Leo? Maybe. But that question would never have a chance to be answered, and that's why things were so completely sad.

Donna pressed down on the gas pedal a little bit more. Hermes had winged sandals – if only she had a pair.

-------

She made good time and pulled into the parking garage for Leo's apartment. Choosing a spot coincidentally near Josh's car, Donna ran out of her own and hurried into the elevator. When Annabeth had spoken to her earlier, she had already decided that today _would_ be the day she'd tell Josh how she felt about him, only now the stakes seemed a little higher. The doors opened on Leo's floor and Donna ran into the hallway and down to Leo's door, opening it without any hesitation.

"JOSH!" Donna screamed, running into the foyer and turning right towards Leo's study. As she turned into the room, she saw Josh sitting on the floor, back up against the bookshelf/cabinet hutch, head tilted to the side, legs outstretched in front of him, a framed photograph in his hands. "Josh," Donna gasped, falling to the floor beside him. "I'm so sorry I sent you here, I just – I didn't think, you know—"

She looked at him to notice his eyes were staring only at the photograph and his whole being was absorbed in the image before him. The silver frame seemed thick and heavy, as if to lend the notion of total importance to the picture within. Donna didn't know whether to smile or cry as she realized just what the picture was: a memento of a time long passed – President Bartlet's first Presidential victory.

It was a total group shot of the then future Chief of Staff and the men and women he would rule over, everyone from the Press Secretary to the Deputy Deputy Chief of Staff flanking him on his left and right. And the smiles on everyone's faces…

"Everyone looks so happy," Donna whispered, looking at Josh, getting no response, and continuing. "It's true though. Look at all of us. We all – God, look how young you look, Josh," she laughed. "And Leo, look at Leo. Look at that huge smile he's got going on right there. That was before he knew how much sleep we'd all be lacking; before we all knew."

"We'd always want to have Leo smile," Josh broke in, his voice gravelly.

"Yeah, I know," Donna replied, grasping his hand.

Josh turned and looked at Donna, his eyes red and seemingly teary. "I feel so responsible," he choked out.

"Oh, Josh," Donna said, moving closer and putting her head on his shoulder.

"I feel like it's my fault that Leo's gone. I know it's not true, the rational part of me does, but I can't help but think that if I had done something else, I could have stopped it. The same way I could have stopped a lot of things from happening, same way I felt I could have stopped you from getting on that stupid plane and going to Gaza."

"Josh—"

"I was so, _so _scared the day you got hurt, Donna. I was so scared when I went to the hospital and you were sleeping, so scared after you went into surgery. And now I'm so scared because I don't know what we're supposed to do from this point onward and we've gotta win and I don't know what to do."

"Oh, Josh, we'll figure it out," Donna said as she felt herself shaking a little bit and crying for the second time that day.

"Yeah, _we _will. That's why things aren't as scary this time around, Donna, because, yeah, I know I have some things all messed up upstairs, but you're here with me and you know what to do."

"We are going to figure things out," she replied, trying to sound reassuring.

"Leo meant a lot to me."

"He meant a lot to me, too."

"But he didn't mean as much to me as you do."

Donna looked up at Josh, speechless. She didn't know what to think – was this the right time to say _it_? Was she later going to think back to this moment and wish she had taken advantage it? The words just weren't coming, and Donna took Josh in and kissed him on the cheek, resting her forehead against his for a moment and backing her face away to look at him, smiling.

The look on his face was one she hadn't seen before – or, well, one she had seen before, but only for brief instances. But, it was _that _face, the one that was a look of longing. Suddenly, as if drawn by a magnet, pulled by a string, pushed by a force of God – whatever – Josh's lips, at very long last, found Donna's and began to show just what emotion he held for her. Happily, yet albeit shocked, Donna's lips reciprocated and began what would become a fantastic first kiss.

It was as if, with the kiss, the mood of sorrow had ended. The mourning had been replaced with loving, and happiness was far more apparent.

"We – we shouldn't be doing this right now," Josh stammered, breaking away, much to Donna's dismay. "Not here."

Donna smiled. "Josh, do you really think Leo would care that much? If he were to walk in right now, he'd say, '_What the hell _are you two doing! I mean, it's about damn time, but right here? On my floor? Not a mental image I wanted. I beg of you, feel free to continue this, but stay away from my apartment, okay? That's all I ask,' and then walk away and leave us to help ourselves out." A smile began to appear on the corners of Josh's mouth.

"Yeah, he would." Josh paused. "It's just – this isn't the right way to be doing this, the right way to be going about this."

"What do you mean?"

"This is too cliché, Donna. I mean, you find me, all emotional and then we get more and more emotional, and, so, in order to quell our grief we start to go at it and then, eventually, we'll end up having sex to forget our sorrow. It's too cliché."

She laughed. "Life isn't always like the movies, Josh."

"I know that. I just – we need to talk. You and I. We need to have a talk. I'm still upset about silly things, stupid things, and I need to apologize. I need to tell you that I tried to – I'm sorry, Donna. I'm sorry for making you leave, for not valuing as much as I should have, and, there were so many times I just wanted to call you up, talk to you, tell you what I felt like, but I couldn't do it. I just wish I had done things differently."

Donna could feel her eyes tearing up. "You're forgiven, almost. I know we need to talk."

"Let's do it then, okay? Talk?"

"Yes."

And the two stood up, ready to leave and get back to work. But, for the very shortest time in the last few minutes at Leo's apartment, Donna knew she had felt the happiest she had been in years.


	19. Chapter 19

Ehh. Sorry for the wait, and sorry for this content. We'll do something exciting next chapter. For now, enjoy this angst-ridden Toby and Sam scene.

* * *

It was probably the fact that he had been in California for so long, but the Washington air Sam was experiencing right now seemed colder before, more chilling. But, then again, maybe it was because things just weren't right without Leo being around.

Regardless of whatever crazy reason that was making the air feel colder, Sam was enjoying being back – well, could he call it home? – and seeing old places and reminiscing about a time long passed. Of course, he hadn't even had time to see either Josh or Donna, but C.J. had penciled him in and Toby – well, Sam was always going over to see Toby.

There was no point in saying that Sam had been apprehensive going to see him. They hadn't seen one another in a while, and, though they would trade e-mails back and forth, it just wasn't the same as working together. There wasn't a rubber ball bouncing against the wall to alert Sam whenever he was needed. And, now, with the trial? Well, it wasn't as if Toby was the same guy totally. But, that didn't matter. It wasn't as if Sam had to treat him any differently.

The first day had been a bit rocky, but now, things were fine. Sam would sit around while Toby worked on something to say at Leo's funeral, they'd discuss the election, and, maybe, if Sam were lucky, he'd get Toby to talk about Huck and Molly – if he were lucky.

Today Toby had called Sam's cell phone and claimed that he was done with his tribute to Leo. So, Sam hopped in his rental car and drove over, only to sit on Toby's sofa and watch his old boss mull over what he had written – again.

"I'm going to go get some more coffee, okay?"

"Huh?"

"I said I'm going to go get some more coffee."

"Okay."

Sam rolled his eyes as he went to get his refill over the fact that Toby's eyes hadn't even moved from the paper with the speech on it. In a way, Sam supposed, it was good that Toby was focusing on something other than his own trial – but in another way, it was kind of sad to see him so obsessed with writing this speech. It wasn't as if it was his only thing to live for, but it certainly was one of the really only good things he had going on in his life right now.

After taking as long as possible to get his latest caffeine jolt, Sam returned to his place on Toby's sofa. Toby, however, was still pacing back and forth, and back, and forth, and back and forth, trying to get the language right. It used to be like this for the State of the Union.

"How's it going?" Sam interjected, blowing on his coffee to cool it down.

"Fine," grumbled Toby.

Sam sighed. Conversation was what the two of them needed, so he'd try his best. "It seems colder here to me." No response. "Maybe it's just because I've been out west so long where, you know, we don't get these brief glacial seasons. But, I would have thought that I'd be able to handle the weather here, because I had lived on the Atlantic side of the country for many more years in the recent past, and only California for my, well, formative ones. And, I could handle New York, and I used to be able to handle D.C., but now it seems that my time spent in, well, the O.C. has made me unprepared for the cold weather in – the D.C. Which I think is pretty funny. From one two letter loc—"

"What the _hell _are you talking about?" A-ha! Success for Sam. Toby had finally cracked and spoken seven words, dropping the hand with the sheet down to his side and putting the arm with the pen-in-hand pointed at Sam's head.

"Just making conversation. Talking about the weather."

Toby rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm being – distracted."

"Whoa."

He turned to Sam. "What?"

"You just – apologized."

Toby chuckled. "Yeah, imagine that. Being incarcerated will do that to a guy."

Sam cringed. "Nah. I just think you've gone soft in your old age."

"Maybe," Toby replied as if his mind were somewhere else. "Maybe."

"You almost done with that thing? I got an urgent phone call telling me to get my ass over here because someone was done, but now I've been waiting for a little while and I have yet to hear your thing for the funeral."

"In a minute. It's gotta be good since I'm not going to be there. Leo would probably hate all this."

"Your speech?"

"My speech, your speech, everyone's speeches. All this to-do about him. I think Leo would have been happy if we had a private little ceremony in a funeral parlor and laid him to rest."

"No color guard."

"Yeah." Toby sighed and took a seat next to Sam on the sofa. "Do you know who it is who's arraigned the funeral?" he mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"Who is it that got the church, minister, flowers, I don't know, all that stuff."

"You mean did the President do it or did Mallory."

"I mean did the President or Leo's family."

"The President."

"Okay."

"What does it matter?" Sam sighed.

"Nothing. I was just curious."

Try as he might, there was no way Toby could pretend to not be upset over missing the funeral and dupe Sam. Reasoning with him was the only thing Sam saw to do. "Toby, seriously, you we can sneak you in—"

"Who's we and how the hell do you think you'll be able to manage that?" he sharply laughed, taking to his feet.

"I don't know – let C.J. talk to the President—"

"Yeah, because C.J.'s definitely the one who should be involved with trying to get me to sneak into a funeral."

"She can convince the President."

"Convince him to do what, Sam?" Toby snarled. "Anything short of an Executive Order I'm breaking whatever the hell house arrest I'm under."

"Not necessarily."

"Do you want to break federal code?"

"Why not, Toby? It's not as if anyone's really going to give a damn. The President doesn't have to know you're there. We can, I don't know, we can dress you up in a disguise if it really comes to that."

"I'm already having Andy talk for me."

"At the funeral?"

"Yes. Yes," Toby responded, bringing his hand up to his face, marveling at the fact that he'd just gotten into an argument with Sam over some law like the old days when people hadn't left to go west or work for someone else or die. "I – I'm not crazy about talking in public, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a good thing that I can't go, because then no one's going to expect me to get up there and – I don't know, give the damned Gettysburg Address."

"Toby, no one's going to care how you deliver a speech. And, furthermore, what do you call all those briefings you gave once C.J. took over as Chief of Staff?"

"You knew about those? I didn't think you paid one bit of attention to us once you escaped to Disneyland."

"Toby!"

"No, Sam, you left us. Be it for whatever reason, you left us. You had the chance to come back and you balked. 'Sam is staying in California,' they told me. I said, 'No, there's no way he wouldn't come back and work here – this is the place he wants to be, this is where he's going to get stuff done—'"

"Toby—"

"But you didn't come back and help us out. You stayed out in California to be a district attorney. Things changed a lot since you left. Within the first year we had our share of bedrock-shaking catastrophes, one of which was the President temporarily stepping down. Then, we had the whole U.S. government shut down. Why? Yeah, it was because Josh screwed up, but some part of me knows that had you been here, it wouldn't have happened. You would have smacked some reason into him. And that's just one, _one _of the instances where we could have used you, Sam. Just one."

Sam had had enough. "Why the hell is this coming out _now_, Toby? Aren't these fights a little old?"

"Better now than never."

"It's called holding a grudge."

"We were abandoned. C.J., the President, Charlie, and me. You all left. Everyone."

"What, do you hold some sort of victims meeting every Tuesday?" By this time Sam was on his feet. Things had gotten absolutely ridiculous.

Toby didn't respond to Sam's sarcastic accusation. Instead, he sat down on the sofa and began to read from his sheet – his speech.

"'Way back in the first campaign, the Governor Bartlet was giving a speech at a rotary club. No one from the staff would remember this event, as this was before their time. I thought it was the beginning of the end of my time. I spent the whole day getting drunk.

'Fired. I was about to get fired again. But then, Leo turned the tables. Instead, he fired everyone _but _me. It wasn't about generosity, or otherwise these guys would have shown up somewhere down the line in a small job; no, Leo decided instead to go out and get a staff that was worthy of Jed Bartlet.

'He chose me, among others. I didn't have an impressive track record back then – still don't. But Leo stuck with me and got Josh, who got Sam, and I went out there and got C.J.

'So, I guess I was wrong with what I just said before. Leo did have generosity. He just gave it to those who deserved it. And that's what made him different, 'cause he wasn't a hard ass, but he wasn't going to give compensation to any sorry person who dragged himself in from the cold.'" Toby stopped reading, paused, and looked up at Sam. "I just can't get this section right. It doesn't say what I want it to. It sounds like crap. Like I'm not a professional writer."

"You're not. You're a professional mole."

Toby laughed. "Yeah. That about fits."

Sam took a seat next to Toby. "What do the other sections have?"

"'The accomplishments of the man whom we honor today are countless. They are listed, tried and true, and will be spoken about by many other people. I instead have decided to focus on the other aspects of Leo McGarry of which I knew. The fact that he was a man utterly devoted to his country is a fact which will be displayed along side his name in the historical books that follow him and his accomplishments. What they won't talk about is what he said in private, when the doors were closed, in the confidence of others. The wisdom the man held – be it from where to order the best sliced deli meat, or his stance on defense plans – cannot be passed on through any medium other than recollections such as mine.

'If there is one moment that I want to share more than any other, it is Leo McGarry's view on parenthood. By now, I am sure most of you know about my two kids. I don't usually talk about them often, since I'm afraid people become bored of parents going on and on about how amazing their children are – because mine are amazing, too.

'But, before they were born, I had a fear. Maybe it was irrational, but it was my fear nevertheless. I was afraid that my children were going to hate me. Be ashamed that I was their father, not – love me. Perhaps I've gone and shamed them now, but, before that, before their birth, I spoke with Leo about that.

'He told me how afraid he was with Mallory, and that every father was afraid that their children were going to hate them. We also talked about how Andrea and I could pick a day for our babies to be born, and how Mallory was almost born on the Long Island Expressway. The humor and reassurance that Leo brought to the daunting situation of bringing children into the world was, just so, par for the course with this man.

'To say that Leo didn't have his faults would be a lie. To say that Leo would love the fact that we were ignoring his faults would too be a lie. However, today we're celebrating Leo's life. We've mourned in the past few days, and it's a time for celebration. Everyone has stories about Leo, and I, though my absence is dually noted, wish for everyone to share the memories of Leo, whether they be fond or not. But, judging the man on his character alone, I find it doubtful to find a tale of ill will about this man.'"

"It's good."

"Not as good as I used to be."

"It's good, Toby."

"Yeah, well, I still have time to correct it."

"And you're going to?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll help."

And it was like old times again.


	20. Chapter 20

Two steps on the sidewalk after coming out of Toby's and Sam's cell phone rang. The number looked familiar – probably one he had lost with his old cell phone, Sam rationalized. It had been a big pain trying to get all the numbers back from the first cell phone into the new one, which made Sam curse the fact that he had accidentally put his pants with the phone in the washing machine all those years ago. Okay, so, it was a classic Sam Seaborn moment, but it still drove him insane.

But whose number was it? It looked so familiar… clearly a D.C. cell number… whatever, no point in pondering, just pick it up.

"Sam Seaborn," he said, talking into the phone.

"Sam?" the southern accent on the other line was undeniable.

"Ainsley?"

"Yes," she laughed. "Long time no correspondence."

"I'll say. How are you?"

"Well, I was doing better until a few days ago, but other than that I've been really good."

Sam stopped walking on the sidewalk. "God, it's been—"

"A very long time."

"Yeah," he sighed, then returned to a chipper tone. "So, what are you doing these days?"

"Actually, I'm in D.C. right now."

"Good to be back?"

"Well, I'm living in Boston year-round, but I'm here for the funeral."

"Oh, yeah. That's why I'm – I'm in Washington, too."

"Yeah. I was hoping you were."

"Really?" Sam replied slyly.

"Yeah – I – do you think you could do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"I'm kind of – stranded at BWI. Do you think you could—"

"Don't worry about it. What airline?"

"Southwest, out of Providence."

"I can be there in – I don't know, not too long, I'll call you once I'm close, okay?"

"Sounds great. Thank you, so much, Sam."

"Don't mention it," he answered, and closed his phone, walking towards his car.

Though he was supposed to be popping in to see one of his old neighbors, Sam knew that helping Ainsley was more important. And, for that matter, much, much, much more intriguing.

-------

He quickly spotted her out on the curb – okay, maybe the fact that he had called her and she had told him what she was wearing and where to meet him had helped, but there was a certain rush of excitement upon seeing her for the first time in – God, he couldn't even remember when they'd seen each other last.

Sam pulled up to the curb, hit the hazard lights, and ran out of the car.

"Hey, Sam!" she squealed, running over towards him and giving him a big hug. He gladly reciprocated, managing to squeeze in a small kiss on the cheek.

Sam stepped back after the embrace and looked her over. Damn, she looked good. Sexy. But, not that he'd say that aloud. Instead, he decided upon the very civil, "Hey! You look great!" to which she replied, with a southern drawl,

"Thank you. And you, on the other hand, look like someone who hasn't been in the sun in years – and yet you've been living in California? What's up with that?"

"Ah. Very funny. No, I seem to find myself coming out only at the crack of dawn and then at rolling back into my apartment after midnight."

"And how does the woman of the house feel about that?"

"Well, I did have my sister's cat cleverly named Kitty living with me for a few weeks when her – my sister – floors were being resealed, but aside from that it's been pretty woman free." Was he hallucinating, or was Ainsley sort of – hitting on him? God, he could never tell. Could never tell the looks, could never tell the talk.

"Maybe the smell of the kitty litter still lingers and is driving them away."

"Maybe." Sam realized that if they didn't move soon he'd probably get a fine. "Let me help you with your bags."

"Oh, you don't have to."

"I insist. Seeing as I am, today, your airport limo service, I'll have to take the bags."

She laughed. "That little one, right there."

Sam walked over to pick up the bag – tripping on the curb, of course – opened the trunk, and placed Ainsley's suitcase in the car. He then went and opened the passenger's side door for her. "Opening doors and everything for you."

"Very nice, Sam. If you ever plan on getting out of law, I see your next career."

He just smiled, and ran around to the driver's side, quickly getting in, buckling up, and driving off. "How is it," he began, "that you know so much about what I've been doing and I know so little about your post-White House life?"

"Connections."

"Connections?"

"I have good connections."

"Or, really, you've kept in contact with Donna."

"Among others."

Sam smiled. He had really missed Ainsley. There was always this feeling that he had that there was something more to them than just friends – but, was that the way she felt? Did she have a boyfriend? He could ask now or ask Donna later. But, it's not as if he'd make it through the car ride with that in the back of his mind. May as well… Dammit, just do it, Sam.

"So, how's been living in Boston?" he finally motivated himself to ask.

"It's been nice. I've been teaching at Harvard."

"Enjoying living with the crazed Red Sox fans?"

"Oh yeah," she replied.

Time to go for it. Sam slipped a glance at her left hand; no ring. The set up was there for the information. "Your boyfriend a Red Sox fan?"

She turned, sitting forward in her seat and faced him. "Why Sam, that was very sneaky of you."

"What was?" he replied, turning quickly to face her and then back to stare at the road.

Her back returned to the seat. "No, my boyfriend doesn't like the Red Sox."

"Bruins, then?"

"No."

"Celtics?"

"No."

"Patriots? Come on, he can't not root for any of the Boston teams, he'd get killed up there!" Sam was inching closer and closer to victory.

"He likes the New England Revolution, thank you very much."

Dammit. That was a low blow. Major League Soccer. "Oh," was all the former speech writer could muster.

She let it go for a minute. "I'm kidding," Ainsley finally replied. "I actually have found myself to be boyfriend-less up north."

The Laker Girls in Sam's head were doing cartwheels. "You know why that is?"

"No, why?"

"Because Boston's the mother ship of all things Democratic, and there you are, a blonde Republican girl from North Carolina in Kennedy Land. No wonder all those liberal men don't want anything to do with you."

"Excuse me," Ainsley said, her voice going higher, "but they have a _Republican _governor up in Massachusetts, know-it-all."

"That's just because they don't want the Democratic Congress to go to town with a Democratic governor. It's their way of legislative checks and balances up there."

"Uh-huh."

"Sorry," Sam conceded. "But, we like the Republican girls a little bit more in Washington and California, if it makes you feel any better."

"You mean the liberal boys outside of Boston are kinder?"

"Yes."

"Well, maybe I'll try my luck in New York."

"Ah, but they too have a Republican governor. I have a feeling your results will be the same."

"Damn. And I was so sure," said Ainsley.

"Uh-huh," Sam replied, ending that part of the conversation. He had gotten the information he needed. "Hey, where am I driving you to, anyway?" he asked, realizing he had just automatically gotten on the highway as if he were going to his old apartment.

"Oh, I'm staying with a friend out here."

"Who?"

"One of my _Republican _ones," Ainsley kidded.

Sam smiled. "What's the address?"

"Want to take me out to lunch first? I'm starving."

"Why doesn't this surprise me?" he chuckled. "Absolutely."

God. Sam could never tell the signs.


	21. Chapter 21

Upon hearing a knock outside his office, Josh raised his head. "What's up?" he asked, as Lou let herself in.

"I've got something you're not going to like," she replied, apprehensively taking a seat.

He sighed. "What is it?"

"We need to map out where the Congressman is going to go after the funeral."

"What does that matter?"

"I'm not talking about after the actual service, I'm talking when the proper send off is complete."

"Yeah," Josh said, shifting in the seat behind his desk.

"I know you're not exactly thrilled about the idea, and that we won some time so that we can afford to stay here for a little while, but you've gotta realize that Vinick has spent the past few days campaigning while we've been waiting for Leo's family members to get to Washington from their various places across the globe. This election's going to be damn close, Josh, and we can't just stay here, stuck in neutral."

Josh waited a minute to respond while Lou took a deep breath. "Okay. I know we need to get back out there."

She did a double take. "You're agreeing with me?"

"Yeah. I am."

"Well," she said, standing up, "that makes things an awful lot easier. I'm going to be working with Annabeth and Bram to figure things out in the conference room, and it'd be a lot easier if the master of ceremonies were there too."

Josh raised his eyebrows. "By that do you mean the Congressman, or me?"

"You. You're the master of ceremonies right now. Santos is only the prized attraction."

"Nice way to put down the future leader of the free world."

"Don't jinx it. And, I'm a great communicator. Show up in ten, okay?"

"Yeah," replied Josh. He rocked back in his chair, pondering things – and such. He had realized that since certain events had occurred, his mind – which used to be grossly populated with all things political – had grown into an intellectual field of varying interests.

And by varying interests he meant Donna.

Well, actually, it wasn't just all Donna. She was, of course, the main reason for the change of disposition, but Josh also had other thoughts and feelings, most of which were cerebral chests designated for worrying about loved ones.

So, except for Donna, worrying, and a newly discovered adoration for Super Pretzel (microwavable soft pretzels – seriously, how had he with his bad eating habits missed this stuff until now?), the brain still held the political minefield that had been residual for – oh, who really knows how many years now. But, the importance of the growth of the Donna section was immeasurable. No longer a location of unrequited love and desire, nor hurt and anguish over events he didn't even quite understand, he thought of her often – maybe a bit too much – and marveled at the fact that the woman who had been his sanity for so long was now living her life completely intertwined with his – for the most part.

Determining that a two-hour work period clearly equated a two-minute conversation with his infatuation, Josh stood up from his desk and went to hunt the woman down. The romp in the marshland for the duck turned out to be relatively short and easy, as Donna was sitting at her desk, blonde hair covering the jet black phone receiver held to her ear. He approached carefully as to not startle the objective – and listened to her shut down some dumbass reporter. That's my woman, he thought to himself. Reaching slowly, he put his hand on her shoulder, and she swiveled in the chair to face him, greeting with a grin.

Eyes fixed on Josh, Donna finished up the conversation. "Once I know more, I'll be sure to give you a call," she said quickly, placing the phone down behind her without breaking eye contact with Josh – and missing the base a few times. "Hi."

"Hi," Josh smiled back.

"How's your morning been?"

"All right. There's a big meeting in the conference room. We're strategizing." Josh leaned against the side of Donna's desk.

"When does it start?"

"It's already in progress. I'm supposed to make a guest appearance, star that I am."

"Superstar," Donna remarked, taking her hand to reshape her hair and clearing her throat to add a certain element to her next statement. "So," she looked around to see if anyone was listening, "you're saying that we can have a little chatting time."

He grinned mischievously. "Yes."

"Okay. Let's go outside."

The eyebrows rose. "Outside?"

"It's nice out. There's nothing nicer than a crisp, cool, October morning."

"Yeah, because people who like 70 degrees and pure sunshine are just crazy."

"The sun _is _out."

"But it's not 70 degrees."

Donna sighed. "Oh, for the love of God, get over it. We're going outside," she commanded turning to put on her coat.

"Hey, no need to get upset," responded Josh, raising his arms for protection from any incoming blow.

She turned and faced him with slow, dramatic fluidness. "I'm not upset," she replied calmly. "But I want to get outside for a little while, so let's go!"

------

Somehow, Josh managed to find the ability to quickly put on his coat and step outside of the headquarters with Donna. It probably – no, it definitely wasn't the most proactive thing to do nearing the end of a Presidential campaign, but Josh knew that Leo would tell him that it was _okay _to go outside and take a walk. It wasn't as if Josh had skipped work often in the past, well, decade.

The two took up their usual andante tempo, but Josh knew that there was something different about it now. In the past they had walked together as boss and assistant, and now – well, they were still technically in the boss-inferior relationship, but it wasn't as scandalous now as it had been. But would it have been that scandalous?

Josh and Donna had prowled the streets of D.C. in the past, but they never had held hands. The amount of times he would have given anything to grab one… honestly, people didn't give him enough credit for his exercised self-control; he was at the very least god-like. Now, however, the temptation was even worse.

They weren't public. Not yet. To be announcing a long awaited relationship finally blooming in the wake of a tragic death would appear as callous to most people. Josh had a sneaky suspicion that everyone back from the "good old days" would probably approve of it, however.

He wanted to walk down the street and hold her hand.

Comfortable silence enveloped their journey – which Josh didn't know where would end – but it didn't matter so much. Donna was sensible enough—

Pulse racing.

Take a breath.

In, out, in, out…

She had jumped over the line.

Josh looked down at his left hand.

Yeah. That was Donna's right hand, covered in her (really soft and fluffy, he had discovered the other day) brown gloves around his. His wide eyes turned up to glance at Donna's face. It took a beat until she locked eyes with him again, and simply smiled.

"Uh, you've – you've advanced our relationship," he managed to get out, swallowing halfway throughout the sentence.

"Yes."

"Are you sure it's okay to be holding hands in public?"

"I deal with the press."

"And you're sure it's okay."

"I don't give a damn."

Well, that settles matters, Josh thought, turning his head away. He glanced back at Donna however, as she squeezed his hand and gave him another smile.

Josh swallowed again. "Is it bad that I'm scared?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "No. So am I."

"But you – you just – you made a move."

"Yeah."

"But I thought you were scared." Donna stopped walking, and Josh turned to face her after walking two paces ahead. "What?"

"It's scary," she said glancing at the pavement of the sidewalk and back up at Josh.

"I know, I just said that."

"But it's right."

Something was up. Donna seemed to be reassuring – herself? What?

"You and me?" Josh asked.

"This isn't going to end." For some reason, Donna had just arrived at the station. She and Josh were together, and it was scary, and it was uncertain. An epiphany it was.

"You and me?"

"If you think that we should stop this, though, you've got to tell me now."

"God, no. No. I don't want to," he replied earnestly.

"This is it for me, Josh. It's you or I'm done."

The hamster in Josh's head had begun to run on its wheel at a rapid pace. Josh was dizzy. _'This is it for me, Josh. It's you or I'm done.' _She had spoken cataclysmic words.

It was times like these – well, not like these times happened too often, but it was times like these that Josh had discovered he would lose the power of speech. His brain was on overload, so many words for emotions and feelings all trying to spill over the floodgate. Luckily, his lips, though stolen of speech, still possessed other abilities.

Josh grabbed Donna and pulled her close to him, kissing her right on the sidewalk, in front of whatever-the-hell reporters who could be walking around. He pulled away to rest his forehead on hers. "Yeah. This is it," he sighed, pulling his head away from hers. "I'm not getting any younger and there is no knuckleheaded excuse in the world that could make me put you and me on the shelf."

"Okay," she replied, quietly, obviously somewhat shaken.

Josh pulled her in for a hug, closing his eyes while he wrapped his arms as tightly as possible, then taking one away to stroke her hair. "I'm sorry. I kind of just turned the tables on us."

"You mean, turning me into the emotional wreck?" she laughed into his shoulder.

"Yeah," he smiled, stepping back to look at her and see she had begun to cry, "but you're never an emotional wreck."

"I'm a rock."

Josh laughed, remembering the conversation that had brought some light into one of his top ten darkest days. "Yeah, but we never specified what kind."

"No," she sighed, wiping underneath her eyes with her gloved hands.

He grasped her open hand and began to walk once more. "I don't know where we're going right now, Magellan."

"I was just going to walk down two blocks and circle back to headquarters."

"Okay. Let's go. We actually have to go back and, you know, win the right to govern the country for another four years."

She laughed. "It's somewhat shocking that the American public let you be the puppeteer behind the federal government."

"And to imagine they're potentially putting me in power for a total of twelve years." He paused a beat. "Are you going to stay over at my place tonight?" he asked, switching gears in one move.

"Yeah," she replied.

Josh kissed the top of her head. "Good." He took a deep breath, internally debating whether or not he should do it right now. It wasn't as if they needed candlelight and fireworks to say it – and she had already been crying. "Donna—"

She stopped and turned towards him. His voice had barely been a whisper. The tone he used when he was scared and things were going badly. "What?" she asked, audibly concerned.

His eyes rolled to the ground and up to the sky, as he chuckled saying, "I know that this isn't exactly the most romantic of situations to be saying this, but I've gotta—"

"What, Josh?"

"I love you," he said, his face utterly and completely serious. "It's been eight years, a few days, and way too long. I just – had to say it. I'm sorry if—"

Donna put her hand to his face to get him to stop rambling and to capture his brown eyes with hers. She couldn't say it without them. "I love you, too."

Josh's visage didn't change. He still looked as bluntly serious as he did when he admitted his affection. Donna worried for a minute – it wasn't as if she had done something wrong, though, right? What she didn't know was that it was just the classic lack-of-speech syndrome that she, out of all people, brought upon him the most. All doubts of her actions were erased when he started kissing her again, this time with far more passion. This is, was, and would be a defining moment in their relationship.

And, in true Josh-and-Donna fashion, it hastily occurred in the middle of the work day, without the champagne and strawberries. It was a moment that paralleled a Christmas where skis were desired, and binders predictably falling off shelves some time after that. Little things and little times that wouldn't be presumed to be important by the average person.

And anyway, who wants to be a stereotypical, made-for-the-movies couple? Love is whatever works. So, if the first time that word is said is during a ten-minute escape from the office on a street in D.C., so be it. Nothing is normal. Nothing is strange. Screwing the status quo is a damn good time.

Maybe it had taken them a few years too long – but it didn't matter. They had done it right.

At last.

Donna pulled away first, clearly leaving Josh wishing for more. She stared at him for a minute, holding on to the last thousandths of seconds of the moment, and then changed gears. "Okay. We've got an election to win."

Feet glued to the sidewalk, Josh's jaw dropped when Donna began to walk off. Had they not just, like – he didn't know – done something really important that needed immediate discussion and reflection? Then Josh remembered: these flirtatious games _defined _their relationship.


	22. Chapter 22

Lunch had gone very well.

Very, very well.

It had gone so well in fact that Ainsley insisted they go and get ice cream. Sam tried to protest, citing the fact that it was October, not July, and this was Washington, not Orlando, but it was no use; he was going to cave regardless of what argument she countered with, be it good or bad – but it was Ainsley Hayes, so it was gonna be good.

Halfway through her chocolate ice cream cone with sprinkles – or jimmies, as they called them in Boston, Ainsley explained – Sam was asked to hold her ice cream and not eat _any _of it while she answered her cell phone. Perhaps if he hadn't been so cold from his peppermint cone he would have flirtatiously stolen a bite, but the thought process went that if he ate more, he would get frostbite, and if he got frostbite, then he'd never be able to find out what was going to happen between the two of them in the future. Risk did not equal reward.

"Hey, Marissa!" Ainsley squealed into the phone.

During lunch, Ainsley had said that it was Marissa with whom she would be staying during her visit. Sam sighed, figuring that Ainsley's hostess was probably curious as to her guest's whereabouts – which meant that his exciting encounter would end.

"You're in New York?"

Sam's head, which had been facing downward, contemplating saying goodbye to Ainsley for however long it would be this time, perked up. If Marissa was in New York right now, then…

"Oh, no, I understand. I can't believe they sprung that on the last minute on you. I'd be kicking and screaming right now," Ainsley laughed. "Oh right, I forgot, I'm talking to the _queen _of kicking and screaming."

Last minute… kicking and screaming… seriously, was there the possibility that Ainsley needed somewhere to stay? Sam's hotel room could certainly fit – no, she wouldn't want to do that. But, if she were desperate, maybe she could stay at the same hotel as he…

"No, Marissa, I don't want to impose – are you sure?"

Damn, arraignments.

"I can call your neighbor and he'll give me the key? Okay. Thank you so much, Marissa. I'll have to make sure I come down again when you're not so swamped with work. I'll call you and let you know how everything goes, okay? Talk to you later."

The instant Ainsley closed her phone Sam stuck her ice cream out toward her and begun the questioning. "Marissa's stuck in New York?"

"Yeah. Her boss is making her stay to work on a project."

"Does she have a place to stay there?"

"Yeah, her boyfriend actually lives in New York. But since she's supposed to in the city three days a week, they have plenty of time together."

"So that shouldn't be so bad, she has an extra night with him this week," Sam said, passing the ice cream.

"No, Tom's in Chicago right now, and Marissa's not crazy about staying there alone, but she'll be okay."

"Where does that leave you?"

Ainsley licked her ice cream. "I'm getting the key from her neighbor and staying there alone."

"Well, that doesn't work out so badly then, does it?"

"No, but she also doesn't have any groceries in the house. It means I'll have to go shopping."

"Oh." Sam wasn't sure. Was this – was this another – was she trying to – why did women have to be all about the subtle, hidden messages? Taking a dive, he asked, "Are you going to need any help? I mean, I've got a car and a trunk and everything. We could even trek out to a Wal-Mart to get you the cheapest prices and big bulk packages of snack-size chips."

------

"Sam, he _didn't _want to kill you," Ainsley laughed, pushing open the door to Marissa's apartment, arms laden with groceries.

"Did you see the look on his face? He was going to go for the giant hunting rifle I'm sure he had in his living room."

"Or maybe the pistol in his bedroom," Ainsley remarked sarcastically.

"Hey, I wouldn't put it past him. You and your people love the second amendment, so I don't see why Calamity Bob down in 4C—"

"Sam, you're in a building whose residents make up a good faction of the Republican party, and these walls are paper thin."

"I'm just saying, had you not popped your head in at that minute, asking for Marissa's key, I'd be dead right now. Lying dead on the 'Jesus Saves' doormat."

"Please, continue with the degrading Republican comments, by all means."

Sam frowned. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Ainsley said, a sinister grin appearing on her face, "but I know how you're going to make it up to me."

"You mean driving you around and helping you get groceries and carrying things into the apartment and nearly getting killed by people who hate Democrats wasn't enough?"

"No. And it's surprising that Cal even knew who you were. Marissa said he usually isn't too political with knowing names and faces."

"Uh-huh," Sam replied, rolling his eyes.

"A lot of the other people in this building are, however."

"Yeah, because this is the D.C. Republican Headquarters."

"What about the Congress that we control?"

"The residential headquarters."

"Well, anyway," Ainsley sighed dramatically, "you're going to make up the snooty comments to me, and you're going to do so by getting dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Yes. You can cook it, you can order out, it really doesn't matter. But, you're buying me dinner."

------

Forty-five minutes later, groceries put away, Ainsley unpacked, and the table set, the pizza arrived and the two sat down for yet another meal.

"I was hoping that you were going to cook for me," said Ainsley.

"I generally try to avoid setting buildings aflame."

"That bad, really?"

"Well, I can make pancakes."

She smiled. "It's a start."

"It certainly is."

The two paused. They had honestly hit on almost every topic they could possibly speak of – except one. The elephant that had traveled around with them everywhere today was still alive.

Then Ainsley went and killed it. Speaking softly, she asked, "How has everyone from the administration taken to losing Leo?"

Sam swallowed his pizza and stared down at the plate, taking time to look pensive about the next few words out of his mouth. "It's surreal, I think. For me at least. I don't exactly think it has hit yet. I hadn't seen Leo for so long – and to think that the world is still revolving without his presence is just – strange."

"He accomplished so many things though. More things than many people can ever say they did."

Sam continued to look at his plate, a film projector showing what would amount to old home movies of working on legislation with Leo and Josh and Toby. "He did do a lot. I think it's probably the hardest on Josh, he being basically Leo's surrogate child." Sam looked up at Ainsley, then back down. "The President loved Josh like a son, but you always knew there was an even tighter father-son bond between Josh and Leo. Josh'd move mountains to help Leo.

"During the MS stuff, when Leo had to testify, right before we struck the deal with the censure, Josh was inside about a problem with Congressman Gibson knowing something that would hurt Leo, and Josh… he tried everything to get Gibson out of the room. I was calling people, pulling strings, but it didn't get done. And just – Leo looked out for Josh and Josh tried to do everything in his power to protect Leo. It's weird to think about him being gone."

"Is Josh doing OK?"

"Yeah," Sam said, a large grin spreading over his face. "He's got Donna."

"And everyone else's got someone?"

"Yeah."

"What about you?"

Sam sharply inhaled. What? What about him? Was she doing it again? Giving him a sign? Had everything today amassed to a sign? It certainly seemed as if she were signaling him. But, wasn't it better safe than sorry? He decided upon saying, "Me? I'm fine."

"But who do you have?"

"Everyone's got each other, really, I suppose."

"But Toby's got Andrea and the President's got Mrs. Bartlet and C.J.'s got Danny—"

"C.J.'s got _who?_" Sam interjected, his eyebrows raised.

"Danny. But you didn't hear it from me. I'm just making a point."

Sam chuckled and let her continue. "And Charlie's got Zoey, if I'm not mistaken, and Josh's got Donna, so where does that leave you? Who do you have to turn to?"

"Ainsley, I—"

"Sam, back when I first started working at the White House, Leo was the only one who treated me with respect. He was decent. Truly decent. I said that to him. He had humor, he was kind, and he treated me like a human being when you and C.J. were screaming about my being hired. I knew Leo, Sam, and I respected him _immensely_. I miss him too. I came down here to celebrate his life. But, Sam, who do I have to turn to?"

He swallowed. "I – don't know."

"And it's not that I just want someone to turn to right now. I shouldn't have to find someone to make me feel safe just when times are difficult. I should have someone like that all the time."

Oh, my God. What was he supposed to do? "You should, Ainsley," he said softly, resolute.

"Sam, there's always been something between us," she said, leaning forward in her chair.

He stared at her. Her beautiful eyes, her fair skin, her blonde hair – features that reminded him of Lisa, the last person who had, at one point, made him feel the same way she did, only Ainsley held more beauty and more grace than Sam's former fiancée could have ever had. Sam had never felt so unsure. God. What _could _he reply with? "I know, there has been, but I've just never known what to do, and then you left and I left and—"

"Sam," she said, stopping his rambling. "There's been something between us for years, and today I've been giving you all the hints in the world toward trying to progress it, and so I have to ask you something."

"Yeah?" he replied, his heart racing. She needed someone to turn to – forever. He needed someone to turn to – forever. What she was about to say could have an impact of monumental proportion.

"Are you ever going to kiss me?"

Gentlemen, start your engines. Here's the first pitch from the right hander. The two centers line up for the tip off. And a strong kick out to the ten yard line, where the rookie out of LSU is waiting to receive.

Sam locked his eyes with Ainsley's and slowly got up out of his chair, never breaking contact. He got to the other side of the table, next to Ainsley's chair, leaned over, and sworn he could have felt a jolt of electricity the first time their lips met.

Or maybe it was just static from his socks and the rug.

Whatever it was, Sam knew that there was something special. He pulled away and opened his eyes. Ainsley's, he saw, were still closed. "I've wanted to do that for a long time now," he whispered. "I can just never tell the signs."

"Well, maybe you'll learn," she replied, taking her hand to his face, bringing in for another kiss. She stood up out of the chair, putting her other hand in his hair and letting his arms wrap around her. He moved to kiss down her neck, and Ainsley took the opportunity to make another request. "Sam," she said.

"Yeah," he replied breathlessly.

"Since you lack observational skills, you're going to need to do something else for me."

He stepped back and looked at her. "What?" he said flatly.

"Make pancakes in the morning."

And with that, Sam agreed – only this time, he decided _not _to use words.


	23. Chapter 23

Plot summary: (Ahem… previously in _Valete_)

A secret service transport crashes, with its passengers unknown. It is revealed in a phone call from Annabeth to Josh that the passenger was Leo. Josh and Donna run to the hospital, where they can't get anything out of the people there, as there is a fear the crash could be a matter of national security; it isn't, and by the time they get around to seeing Leo, they find Annabeth who tells them that Leo has already passed.

People are informed of Leo's death, namely Sam, who decides to fly to Washington as soon as possible. In the meantime, Donna and Annabeth have a conversation about unrequited love, while Josh is sent to Leo's home to pick up a folder. Josh, relatively freaked out and overwhelmed by his location, calls Donna, and she speeds to Leo's. The two finally talk and straighten their relationship out! Sort of.

Sam arrives in D.C. and talks to a totally irritated Toby. Their meeting is angst-filled and disgusting. When Sam leaves Toby's, he gets a phone call from Ainsley. They haven't seen each other in years, but she needs a favor: a ride from the airport.

Josh and Donna _finally_ admit to loving one another, and Sam and Ainsley spend quality time and _finally _get together.

Up next…

* * *

Out of all the possible ways to be awoken after a full day at the White House, C.J. Cregg had decided that it was waken-by-cell phone that drove her insane and irritated her the most. She had told Danny that, and so, when the familiar old-school telephone ring that was C.J.'s cell began to scream at full blast, the gentlemanly reporter got the phone, looked at the number…

And groaned.

"C.J.," he whispered. "C.J." It wasn't as if he blamed her for not waking up, but – if she didn't get this soon, _he _would have to pick up the phone, and that would be – well, troubling. "C.J.," he said loudly, trying again. This time he was successful. "It's the President," he said, handing her the phone and giving a kiss on the cheek.

C.J. took the phone and opened it up. "Hello," she said sleepily, as Danny turned on the lamp next to his bed.

"C.J."

"Good – morning, Mr. President."

"I'm sorry to wake you, but there is a matter that – it's time sensitive."

By this time, she had dug in. "Yes, sir."

"C.J., what has the precedent been for pardons at the end of a term?"

"I'm sorry, sir?"

Bartlet shifted around on the edge of his bed, holding the phone in one hand and the base in the other. He stood up and walked farther away, not wanting to wake Abbey. "I asked, what is the precedent for pardons at the end of a term."

C.J. ran her hand through her hair. "I really wouldn't know, sir."

"I'm asking you this because I've been up all night thinking about whether or not I should pardon someone."

"Sir?"

"Would anyone blame me for doing it?"

"Sir—" C.J. began, and then stopped. Obviously, he was talking about Toby. It was a conversation that she had known was coming, but had not expected to arrive over the phone. It was one of those times where she had to choose her words very carefully. "Mr. President, if Gerald Ford can pardon Richard Nixon, I don't think that anyone would blame you for doing the same for a certain person."

"I was hoping that would be the case. C.J., I'm going to need you to come in before the funeral. Not right now, but after the sun comes up."

"Yes, sir," C.J. replied. "I'll be there."

"Thank you, Claudia," Bartlet said, hanging up the phone and walking back towards the bed. He placed the phone on the table and rolled back into the bed, pulling the covers atop him.

"Jed?"

Bartlet turned his head to see Abbey looking at him in the darkness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Are you going to do it?"

He paused, rolling over, blinking eyes at the darkness above him. "Yeah."

After C.J. had closed her cell phone, she had thrown her head back against the wall behind Danny's bed. She sighed, and closed her eyes.

"He's going through with it?"

"We'll see," replied C.J.

"When do you have to go in?"

"Before the funeral, after sunrise."

"You wanna sleep?" Danny asked softly.

"Yeah," she smiled back, handing him the cell phone and moving closer toward him. He gingerly placed the phone on the nightstand, hit the light, and curled up next to C.J. Tomorrow was not going to be easy by any standards.

------

Passing about fifty Secret Service agents, C.J. made her way to the residence. It was about 6:30, and, thanks to the end of daylight savings time, bright and sunny. To say that she knew what the outcome of this meeting would be was false; Toby could be safe, Toby could be in prison. She hoped for the former. Everyone did.

C.J. raised her hand and knocked on the bedroom door. "Good morning, ma'am," she said, as Abbey answered the door. Looking inside, she noticed the President on the phone.

Abbey stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door. "He's talking to Mallory. Trying to get the final preparations ready."

"Did everyone from her family make it out here?"

"Everyone except for Leo's aunt, whose health is too poor."

"That's good. Not her poor health, but, that almost everyone can be here to say goodbye."

"Yes," Abbey replied.

They paused. Reluctantly, C.J. asked, "Ma'am—" she took a breath and tipped her head before finishing the question. "how is he?"

"What do you mean, C.J.? Is my husband having trouble burying his best friend, or is he having trouble approaching the end of his Presidency?"

"… Well, both. Except, right now I'm focusing on this – on Leo."

Abbey sighed and walked over to the sofas outside the bedroom, motioning for C.J. to follow and take a seat. "It hasn't been easy for him."

"I would imagine so, ma'am."

"It really caps off his Presidency in a bad light."

"Yes."

"Not from a political standpoint mind you, but a personal one. C.J., eight years ago, would you ever think that we would be burying two of our people?"

"No, ma'am."

"Eight years, and two times he's had to bid adieu to two of his closest friends. Two car accidents, two friends, two goodbyes. And I don't think he's taking it that well. It's the end of his administration and what has he accomplished? A great deal. But what he's going to remember, I think, is that he lost both Mrs. Landingham and Leo."

"We've – he's had his share of hardships," C.J. agreed.

"I really don't know what to tell you. Sometimes I think he's fine, and other times I think he's for the worse. It could be his health affecting his temperament… but he's lost his best friend, C.J., and it was unexpected. It almost seems easier sometimes with a prolonged illness, doesn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

At this time, the President walked out of the room. "C.J.," he said quietly, motioning her to come inside.

"Good morning, sir," she replied solemnly, giving Abbey a nod goodbye and walking into the room, the door being closed behind her by the help.

"Obviously you know what it is I want to talk about," he said, sitting down on one of the sofas.

C.J. followed suit. "Yes, sir."

"What do you think?"

"I – I think you should pardon him, sir."

"Why?"

She blinked for a moment. "I'm sorry?"

"Why do you think I should pardon Tobias Zachary Ziegler, whom, by the way, has not submitted his name for consideration?"

Great, C.J. sighed inwardly. Obviously he was going to want her input, but she didn't want to give it. Talk about the conflict in Kazakhstan, that's fine. Talk about Toby and… no, not fine. At all.

"Originally I didn't want to pardon him," she confessed.

"You didn't?"

"No, sir. He betrayed his country by the strictest interpretation of the law."

"But on the other hand—"

"On the other hand, he did only what a good person would do: he tried to save others. It seems ironic for a man who tried to save lives to be punished for doing so."

"It has happened before."

"Yes, but in those cases the discipline comes at the hands of tyrants – that's what the people who punish the good man are called, tyrants. They're dictatorial leaders and sins against humanity themselves. Toby isn't like that, Mr. President. He did us good, and if only for his children and for no one else, he deserves to walk the streets free. He didn't hurt anyone."

"Technically."

"Yes, technically," C.J. sighed. "But for what it's worth – I don't know, sir, but for what it's worth, no one ended up hurt. People could have, but no one did, so let's count our blessings and let it go."

"And give him clemency."

"Yes."

C.J. watched as Bartlet seemed to ponder. She knew that he wasn't changing his mind; his mind was made up the minute she walked into the room. She was only there to validate his opinion, what Leo had done all those years. _Leo._

"Then it should be done."

"Yes, sir."

Changing from philosophical to business mode, the President stood up and began to walk around the room. "We'll go to the office, call the necessary people, and pardon him. Today. We'll pardon him today, C.J."

"Sir, we – technically we don't have to do it today. Doing it now means we have the pardon hanging around our necks for the rest of the term."

"Without the pardon it makes it nearly illegal for Toby to be in the same room as I. Screw the media, screw the press, let them say whatever of my Presidency. History will not look down upon what I have done and say that 'Josiah Bartlet was a two-term President, who, in late October of his second term, pardoned former Senior Aide Toby Ziegler, who was indicted for leaking state secrets. The move manifested the rapid deterioration of the former New Hampshire governor, who announced before his second run that he was suffering from a case of relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis.'

"No one's going to write that, C.J. They're going to focus on all the other great things you and everyone else has accomplished for me. It's been a great run, and _that's _what history will recognize."

"Yes, sir."

"Then let's get this done."


End file.
